


Winds of Change

by terminatortom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Daenerys Targaryen, Dark Jon Snow, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/M, Fix-It, King Jon Snow, Kings Landing, Manipulative Sansa Stark, Post-Season/Series Finale, Pregnancy, Queen Daenerys, no Mad Queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminatortom/pseuds/terminatortom
Summary: Love was the death of duty, however it was his duty to protect her. Even if he would lose himself in the process





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with the season finale, seeing as I've only watched 'that' scene.  
> Tyrion has quit as Hand, but hasn't been thrown into a jail cell. Daenerys hasn't given her speech to the soldiers, because lets be honest, THAT speech should never have been done. One or two people mightn't be where they had been in the last episode, again I've only seen a part of it.

“We can break the wheel, _together_.” Hopeful violet eyes searched Jon’s face as she spoke. They had won, they had taken Kings Landing. They could rule the Seven Kingdoms as the last two Targaryens as was their right.

Jon paused as he held her in his arms, taking in the woman he had bent the knee to. There were no heavy bags under her eyes. The stress of what had happened seemed to have been lifted from Daenerys' shoulders now she had what she wanted. Eyes wide and smile on her face, she looked like _his_ Daenerys, the one that told him she wanted to stay at the waterfall.

“You are my Queen, now and always," he told her, watching as her eyes seemed to shine brighter at his words.

Daenerys pressed her lips against Jon's, lacking the desperation of when she had tried to kiss him in Dragonstone. A soft groan escaped Jon, as her tongue demanded entrance. His hand moved from her cheek to the thick elaborate braids in her hair. Deeping the kiss, Daenerys let out a whimper as Jon sucked lightly on her tongue, her fingers gripping the leather of his armour.

“Jon,” Daenerys whispered, pulling away slightly. She could feel his heart pounding underneath her hand. A softer kiss this time, brushing her lips against his, she watched as conflicting emotions raged in his gray eyes. Jon had refused to touch her on DragonStone, the rejection had stung but she would not let anyone take this man from her.

Jon’s hand twitched towards the dagger on his belt. Tyrion’s words echoing in his head, that his feelings for Daenerys blinded him to the truth. That perhaps her coin hand landed on the side of madness after all. Had they all been so wrong?

‘No.' He thought to himself, cupping her cheek, as Daenerys seemed turned her face against his calloused hand. He would not be known as ‘Jon Snow, King of the North...Queenslayer.' A feather-light kiss to her head, his other hand tightening in her braid to hold her against him. Violet eyes peered up at him, no longer looking like the conquering Queen that she was.

 

‘ _I am hers, and she is mine.’_

The thought echoed around Jon’s head, resting his head against hers, a ragged breath falling from his mouth.

“Dany, I...”

Whatever words had been coming next, died a death as Jon watched Drogon climb through the broken wall of the Red Keep. It was equal parts awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. The large black dragon circled the pair. Its red eyes staring through Jon like it had done so when the pair had been at the waterfall.

Daenerys watched as his attention moved away from her, the slight apprehension on his face causing her twist out of his grip. A smile blooming on her face, seeing her child slowly making its way behind her throne. Its gaze never leaving the pair, even as it curled itself in the shadows.

“Your men will need to swear fealty to me.” Daenerys broke the silence between them.

Jon's gaze flicked towards the hole in the throne room, nodding as the swallowed the lump in his throat. She was right of course, as Queen, his men would need to bend the knee to her. His stomach dropped at the thought of what would happen to them if they didn’t. If her display to the Lannister’s men and the Golden Company was anything to go by, she wouldn’t take their refusal lightly.

“I know.”

“Your _sister_ will need to swear fealty to me.” Daenerys placed her hand on Jon’s face, pulling his attention back to her.

He didn’t need to say anything, it was written all over his face that, that was something she wouldn’t do. An understand smile formed on her face, as she could see the struggle in his eyes.

 

"The North no longer has a need for a King." Her lips brushed his as she spoke, Daenerys needed him to agree with her. She couldn’t have parts of the realm she ruled, breaking off and declaring independence.

“I bent the knee,” Jon placed his hand over hers, pulling away slightly. “The North will do the same and respect your rule.”

Neither of them needed to point out that his words rang hollow. Just because he had bent the knee to her, that didn't mean the Northern Kingdoms would. Under Jon, they had disavowed the rule that came from Kings Landing. Having someone on the throne that would not allow them to continue to do so, would take getting used to, but it was something they _would_ get used to.

Daenerys nodded before walking past him, heading down the stairs that led out of the Red Keep. She didn't want this to be difficult for him. However, the sooner that the North and his sister, _‘she’s not his sister’_ she mentally corrected herself, accepted her rule the easier it would be for everyone. Kings Landing would need to be rebuilt, she had a realm that she needed to heal, that wouldn’t happen if there were small rebellions popping up.

Tyrion’s gaze flicked towards the Red Keep. It seemed like an eternity ago that he had sent Jon Snow in there to kill Daenerys, and yet he still hadn’t returned. There was no cry of anguish, no rush of men who had found their Queen’s body. He had spied Drogon making his way through one of the holes in the wall, even then there was no roar of anger from the dragon.

"How long does it take to kill a bloody Queen?" Bronn muttered, he was starting to ache from leaning against the collum for so long. The Dokrathi and Unsullied moving around them left him on edge. The sooner he could get out of this shithole of a city, the better. He didn't like the way it looked, he didn't like the way it smelled and that was before Daenerys had burnt half of it down.

“Not this long," Tyrion replied, his own nerves were shot. Daenerys hadn't taken his _resignation_ as Hand lightly, and he wasn't sure if he would make it out of the city alive. The longer they waited, the more he was worried something had gone wrong. Daenerys had found out about their plans and had killed Jon before he could kill her. One of her Unsullied and walked in before it could happen, and had killed Jon on the spot for attempted regicide.

He hadn't wanted this, not really. Tyrion had thought that Daenery would have been different. He thought she would have united the realms, that had become so fractured under his sisters' fist. Then she had burnt half of Kings Landing down, murdered civilians. She had become the Queen of Ashes that she had claimed she didn't want to be. Following her death, and with his help, that could finally happen.

“That’s not a good sign,” Bronn’s brow was furrowed in concern, his eyes glued on the massive doorway to the Keep.

Tyrion followed his gaze, his stomach dropping to somewhere near his feet. Coming down the steps, was a decidedly living Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow walking a few steps behind her.

“Find Arya Stark, take her to Winterfell.” He ordered as he stood. His mind was racing, as he tried to come up with anything that would explain just why Daenerys was still alive.

For a brief moment, Bronn was about to argue leaving Tyrion here. One look at their new Queen, her face set in an impassive mask, as she slowly made her way towards them, had him abandoning those thoughts.

“I’ll see you there.”

“Your Grace,” Tyrion bowed his head slightly. His questioning gaze turned to the man behind her, who seemed lost to his own thoughts.

"Tyrion Lannister," Daenerys replied coolly.

An upturn of his lips in a bitter smile, there was no warmth to her words. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, he had thrown the pin marking him as her Hand, at her in anger. Tyrion wouldn’t have been surprised if she had taken his head, for the act of insubordination.

“I need to address my people." Cutting off any excuse that he tried to give her. "They need to see that I'm a strong and fair Queen, I am here to unite the Seven Kingdoms after they've been subjugated under Lannister rule."

Jon hung back as Daenerys spoke, his mind still trying to figure out what had happened. It didn't seem too long ago that they had managed to defeat the Night King. Everyone had been celebrating a victory they didn't think would happen. Then they had decided to travel south, to take the Iron Throne. Somehow Euron Greyjoys fleet had been underestimated or forgotten about, and Rhaegal had been killed. Being a second dragon down, shortly followed by the death of Missandei had flipped a switch in Daenerys. One he wasn’t sure she would come back from.

“You were meant to kill her," Tyrion whispered darkly at Jon, conscious of who could be listening to their conversation. Daenerys Targaryen was not meant to live beyond this day, and she was currently walking past her Dokrathi and Unsullied, very much alive.

“I couldn’t.”

“The innocent people she killed, when her dragon torched the city.” Tyrion glared at Jon’s back as he followed Daenerys.

“The people _she_ killed?" Jon hissed, spinning on his heel. He didn't agree with what she had done, he didn't know if he ever would, but she was hardly the first to employ such a tactic. "What about when you used wildfire against Stannis' army? What about when Cersei destroyed the Sept and killed innocent people?" Jon challenged, nostrils flared as he glared down at the smaller man.

Tyrion’s lip curled up in a snarl at the comparison, who was Jon Snow to judge his family? His blood boiling as he stared at this _boy._

“They should have left you at the Wall, the bastard no one wanted.” The insult left his mouth before he had a chance to stop it.

Tyrion took a half step back, quickly realising the difference not only in their size but also skill with a blade. A single droplet of sweat, made its way down his face, noting that Jon's eyes almost looked black as he glared down at him. His eyes lingered on Longclaw on Jon’s hip, a single swing of that sword would take his head off. A second step, and then another, not taking his gaze off the other man. Targaryen temper was a fine thing, and he wasn't dumb enough to realise he had overstepped his bounds with his last comment.

Jon watched the former Hand of the Queen cautiously walking away. The words ringing in his ears, ‘the bastard no one wanted'. He had heard those words enough around Winterfell, yet they still felt just as harsh. Gloved hands balled into tight fists, as he forced himself to not follow the smaller man.

His gray eyes flicked towards where he could still Daenerys, her white-blonde hair making her stand out against her soldiers. Jon knew she would expect him to follow her as she spoke to her men. However, he couldn't find the joy in their victory that she did. It felt _tainted_ when he found her in the Red Keep, and that that present moment in time, he wasn't sure he could fake the smile she would want from him. He stalked off in the opposite direction, hoping that the distance however brief, would do him some good.

Davos Seaworth glared, brown eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the Northern-men, he had finally managed to talk down. Following Daenerys Targaryen unleashing Drogon on Kings Landing, the men had gone mad. They had taken the sight of the dragon, to mean they could unleash their darker side. They had willingly joined the Dokrathi and Unsullied in murdering the Lannister men at best, at worst they had forced themselves on several women.

"Jon." Sighing in relief, as he watched the former King of the North make his way over. The black haired man looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. His skin paler than normal, and heavy bags under his eyes signaling he needed a hot bath and long sleep.

“Davos," Jon allowed a tired smile to form on his face, as he gripped the other man's shoulder. Seeing his former Hand, someone that still looked like the person he knew them to be, was a calming influence. Running his hand through his hair, he stared at the men he commanded. A feeling of disgust, running through him, knowing what they had done. It was something that he would need to address at some point.

A loud cheer could be heard, as the chanting of _‘Khaleesi'_ went up. Davos turned to Jon, eyebrow raised in an unspoken question. They had both seen the destruction she and her dragon had reigned down. What the Onion Knight needed to know was if they could still trust her.

"Once she address her soldiers, they'll need to bend the knee to her." Jon indicated to the small number of men he had left. Compared to Daenerys’ numbers, the North had lost the majority of their numbers. Perhaps that was to be expected, the Targaryen Queen's forces had outnumbered theirs, to begin with.

“If they don’t?” Davos questioned. He was fairly sure he knew what the answer to that would be, the dark look that formed on Jon’s face only confirming the fate that would await them.

“Make sure they do.”

“Jon.," Davos spoke quietly as he moved to his former Kings side. He wanted to ask if they had made the right decision, if this was what they had wanted. His eyes lingered on the scorched brickwork of the houses around them, his heart catching in his throat as he thought of the people who had died.

Jon didn't respond, his eyes clenched shut as the loud wingbeat signaled Drogon was still flying overhead. The sight of which drawing panicked gasps from the people in the streets. Now wasn't the time to start questioning if they had done the right thing. Daenerys had taken the Iron Throne, hadn't that been what this had all been for?

“ _Khaleesi!"_ A second cry went up in the air, this time punctuated by the sounds of spears hitting the floor. The sound was enough to have a shiver run down your spine, the noise seemingly coming from all directions at the same time.

Daenerys allowed a proud smile form on her face, as she walked around Kings Landing. Her troops standing upright as she walked past them. The years she had spent across the sea, had finally paid off. Being sold to the Dokrathi and raped by Khal Drogo, losing her child and husband, the attempts on her life, having her children stolen from her. It had all be worth it.

Her smile faltered ever so slightly, as a woman and her child recoiled from the sight of her. Part of her wanted to reach out to the pair, wanting to confirm that she wasn't like Cersei. However, the woman pulled the child closer to her chest, regarding Daenerys with a look of pure terror. Daenerys' hand dropped to her side, a small frown on her face she turned from the pair, she wasn't the villain here. Her hands clenched at the sides of her black dress, anger bubbling up inside of her. She had liberated these people, she would not be looked at as some kind of monster.

Pushing her anger down, Daenerys continued walking through the ruined streets of Kings Landing. It would take time to rebuild, broken bricks and pieces of rubble lined the streets. Drogon’s fire had left several of the buildings in ruin. Reaching out, she could feel the last of her children flying above them, looking out for any threats that may have been in hiding.

“Khaleesi,” Grey Worm lightly touched her elbow, a small bow of his head as her eyes focused on him. _“Se vali emagon rounded bē se mōrī hen Lānistor jaossa.”_ A proud smile on his face. The captain of the Unsullied had thought they had killed the last of the enemy forces. However, two dozen had been found trying to escape through the tunnels under the city. It hadn't taken the combined Unsullied and Dokrathi long to get to them. Cersei's men had been in a blind panic once they realised she had died, and Daenerys Targaryen had taken the throne.

 _"Gūrogon zirȳ naejot se zaldrīzes ripo,"_ Daenerys ordered, she would not allow them the chance to escape the city. _“Ūndegon lo pōnta iēdrosa refuse naejot obūljagon, skori Drōgon ēza ipradārin pōja raqirossa.”_ She would give them one more chance. The men that chose to follow Cersei Lannister to her death would get their wish if that's what they wanted. That she was even giving them a second chance, was a mercy they didn’t deserve.

Violet eyes narrowed as she starred towards the half-destroyed gates of Kings Landing. The golden lion flapping in the wind, the sight sickening her with each passing second.

“ _Qūvy ilagon mirre Lānistor flag ao find, zālagon zirȳ lēda se bodies.”_ Daenerys didn't wait for a response to her order, Grey Worm would ensure it was carried out because it was _her_ order. Looking down at the silver Targaryen pin clasped to the cape she wore. After so many years of living in hiding, she had finally achieved what her brother had thought was his birthright. She only wished she had done so, without having to lose so much.

A slow rhymic banging filled the air, as Daenerys continued her slow walk around the city she ruled from.

What seemed a lifetime ago, she would never have felt safe walking around Kings Landing by herself. Daenerys had been fed story after story about what the Usurper King and his men would do to her. Viserys had made sure to go into detail, about how Roberts Baratheon would have his men rape her, one after the other before he would do so himself. Only then, would he crush her head with the same war hammer he had used to kill Rhaegar Targaryen.

Blinking back the tears, she hadn’t even known were collecting in her eyes, Daenerys took a slow steadying breath. She was blood of the dragon, ghosts could not harm her.

“I need to address my men," she whispered to herself. That had been the purpose of leaving the Red Keep, yet she found herself drawn to the streets of the city she would rule. Turning to go back the path she had just come, Daenerys came to a stop. There was no mistaking the mop of red hair, riding out of Kings Landing, like the gates of hell were right behind him. Her Hand had thrown the pin at her when he accused her of killing his brother and sister. Had he so easily forgotten what his sister would have done to her if she had lost this war? Her death would not have been a swift thing.

Listening to the banging growing louder, with each passing second, Jon nodded to Davos, before signaling his men to follow him. He had told Daenerys that they would bend the knee to her, and that’s exactly what he planned for them to do.

“After this, what becomes of Jon Snow?" Davos asked, walking alongside him. He warily eyed the soldiers lining up on the streets, at least the ones that weren't making their way towards the Red Keep. The arakhs that the Dokrathi were holding, gleaming menacingly under the sun, even if they were still stained with blood.

“After?” Jon questioned, he had never given too much thought to what would happen after they won. He hadn’t expected to walk out of the war of the Night Knight unscathed, and he hadn't planned any kind of future out following this.

“The Warden of the North, the Lord of Winterfell.” Davos offered, they were very well two titles that could be bestowed on Jon, if he wanted them.

“I'm not a Stark, Davos," Jon muttered, only loud enough for the man next to him to hear. The titles were something he had never dreamed of before. Having been seen as a bastard, the best he had hoped for as a child was to be at Robb's side when he was given those titles. Now he wasn't a bastard, but a Targaryen. He fully aware Sansa would never allow him to rule Winterfell, none that she knew of his true parentage.

The former Hand stared at his back sympathetically. Whilst the truth of this birth had come to light, the Onion Knight still viewed him as a Stark deep down. The North ran through his veins, he had given his life to protect his people. A dragon raised by wolves.

Jon led his men up the stairs of the Red Keep, wincing with each step that he took. His body was aching from the battle, his armour felt like it was sticking to his skin. He was positive that it would take days before the smell of death left his skin. The heat from the sun was doing little to help the situation. He wanted nothing more at that present moment in time, than to bathe and sleep.

There was a distinctive nervous chittering off his men as they followed him, it was to be expected. The few men that had been in the Keep before, were likely the ones that had followed Ned Stark when he had been betrayed. Jon knew that the same thing wouldn't happen here, but he was also aware that they had just seen a dragon torch half the city. There were no words of comfort that he could offer them.

As they made their way into the half-destroyed Throne Room, Jon's eyes locked onto Daenerys. There she sat, back straight and head held high, on the least comfortable looking chair he had ever laid eyes on. The only guard with her was Grey Worm, a concerned frown formed on his face. That was something he would need to speak to her about.

“Your Grace." Bending his knee and head lowered. Jon only looked up when he when what sounded like a barely disguised amused snort came from the woman in front of him. A subtle nod to her side, had Jon moving back to his feet, standing next to her as he turned to his men.

Davos followed Jon’s direction, bending his knee and keeping his gaze lowered.

“Ser Davos,” Daenerys spoke after a moment, smiling warmly as he looked up at her. “You have served your people well, both Stannis Baratheon and the former King of the North.” She indicated to the man to her right, as her fingers curled around something in her lap. “I find myself in need of a Hand, someone that will show loyalty and respect that the position demands. Ser Davos Seaworth, I would like you to be the Hand of the Queen.”

Brown eyes darted around Daenerys’ face as he took he processed her request. That was not what Davos had been expecting. He had been prepared to go back to Winterfell and serve there, in whatever capacity they asked of him. Though, if the look that Daenerys was giving him was anything to go by, then this wasn’t exactly a request.

“Your Grace,” he started. What could he do? Ask for time to think it over? Go north and talk discuss it with his wife? Either of which would be seen as a rejection. “I would be honoured to be your Hand.” Accepting the pin that was offered to him, though not immediately attaching it to his tunic. Turning to Jon, who offered him it a small nod, it seemed neither of them would be going anywhere.

“Men from House Cerwyn, Reed and Glover.” Jon introduced, eyes closing in annoyance as they continued to simply stare at Daenerys.

“Do Northern-men not bow to their Queen?" She asked, turning to look first at Jon and then Davos. "I will rule over the Seven Kingdoms," she told the men in front of her, slowly approaching them, a dangerous glint in her eye. "There is no King in the North anymore, there are no Kings anywhere. I am your Queen, now bend the knee."

The temperature in the Throne Room dropped, although it had very little to do with pieces of the wall being missing. One by one, the men slowly bent their knees, eyes firmly locked on the ground in front of them.

Jon let out a sigh of relief. It mightn't have been the way she had wanted them to, but they had bowed. They had bowed and right now that would have to be enough. Daenerys would demand complete loyalty, he knew that. It would come in time, and based on how her rule played out, but it was a start.

“Return North.” Daenerys ordered them, “tell the Lords of your houses that they will travel to Kings Landing, where they will also bend the knee to me.”

Daenerys turned away from them, there was no response coming and she wasn’t expecting one either. It was an order, and it would be carried out. If the Lords of the houses refused to do so, then they would find themselves with nothing to rule over.

Jon’s stomach dropped, as he watched one of the men behind her slowly raise. The shine of steel in his hand, and unadulterated hatred on the man’s face as he lunged towards her. A startled cry escaped Daenerys’ mouth as Jon’s hand gripped her arm, wrenching her towards him.

Grey Worm’s head snapped towards the pair eyes narrowed dangerously, his spear raised seeing this as an attack. Before he had the chance to do anything, Grey Worm watched as Jon forced himself in front of Daenerys.

The blade that had been aimed for the Targaryen Queen, sliced into Jon's stomach instead. The would-be assassin was unable to stop his momentum forward, even as his intended target was pulled out of the way. His eyes widening in pain, as he held onto the would-be assassins wrists, preventing him from pulling the blade out of his gut.

 

_Se vali emagon rounded bē se mōrī hen Lānistor jaossa – the men have rounded up the last of the Lannister dogs._

_Gūrogon zirȳ naejot se zaldrīzes ripo – take them to the Dragon Pit._

_Ūndegon lo pōnta iēdrosa refuse naejot obūljagon, skori Drōgon ēza ipradārin pōja raqirossa – see if they still refuse to bend the knee, when Drogon has eaten some of their friends._

_Qūvy ilagon mirre Lānistor flag ao find, zālagon zirȳ lēda se bodies – tear down any Lannister flag you find, burn them with their bodies._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the assassination attempt on Daenerys' life raises more questions than answers. Meanwhile, the North receives news of the battle of Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the House one of one of the men who were in the Throne Room at the end of chapter 1. I was looking through which houses had vassals and realised the change was needed.

Opening his eyes, the last thing Jon remembered was the burning feeling of a knife slicing into his stomach. Daenerys crying out in horror and Davos’ angry yell. Sitting up gingerly, in a room he couldn’t recognise, he hissed out as pain exploded in his stomach. Pushing the thick, white bedcover off of himself, as best he could, his eyes narrowed at the gauze covering the wound in his lower abdomen.

 “It was Daenerys’ idea to give you the essence of nightshade,” Davos spoke from the corner of the room, slowly pushing himself off of the table he had been resting on. “She didn’t think you’d want to be awake when they packed the wound. Personally, I think you’ve been stabbed enough times to get used to what it feels like.” The smile belied Davos’ tone, as he slowly crossed the room.

“You act like I plan getting stabbed,” Jon grumbled at him even if his heart wasn’t in it. “What's that?” he asked, eyeing the cup in the other man's hand.

“Milk of the poppy, I don’t think anyone wants to hear you complaining about that wound.” Davos smirked at Jon’s grimace as he swallowed the liquid. He knew from experience how bad it tasted, and he also had a good idea that Jon wasn’t going to be laying in bed until he was healed.

Wincing as he reached for the beige tunic resting over on a small table, Jon pulled it over his head as slowly as he could. His teeth grit as he could feel his skin pull and stretch.

“What happened?”

“After you’d been stabbed,” Davos sighed, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “Grey Worm put his spear through his head, we didn’t really have time to ask why he had done it.” He reached out, patting Jon on the leg, seeing the pain in his eyes at the death of one of his men. “He made his choice when he pulled a blade on Daenerys.”

“Aye,” Jon nodded, “Doesn’t mean that I have to like it though.” He was trying to go over anything that would explain why the man had done what he had. “What of the other men?” He asked, bracing himself for the news that they had all been killed as well.

“In the dungeons.” Davos didn’t miss the look of relief that flashed across his face before it was replaced by a silent question. “They deny any knowledge of what happened in the Throne Room. As much as Grey Worm wanted to kill them all, she won’t let him without proof of their guilt.”

“Without proof?” Jon repeated mostly to himself. He didn't know if they would find any, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. If they were sitting in the dungeons then they could be in there for a long time. “Daenerys is she..” worry filled Jon’s gut, just how would she react to this attempt on her life?

“She’s fine,” Davos replied, even if that wasn't entirely accurate. “I mean she’s angry as hell. If that’s over someone trying to kill her, or you being stabbed, I’m not too sure.” the smile on his face grew wider at the thought. Jon might have only been in bed for a day, but her ire that had been directed at everyone since then, would have had you believe Jon had been out of commission for much longer.

For someone who had been the epitome of calm, following the death of her would-be assassin, she had become increasingly flustered when both Grey Worm and himself had told her she couldn’t sit at Jon’s bedside. Although if she hadn't newly taken Kings Landing, Davos had no doubt in his mind, that they would have found her watching over Jon.

Finally pushing himself out of the bed, Jon nearly gave a small yelp as his feet hit the cold stone floor. He might have spent his life in the North, but there was often a fire burning to warm the rooms. Gray eyes searching, but not finding the boots he had been wearing the day previously. Turning to Davos with a questioning gaze, only to be met with a shrug in response.

“Her Grace’s expectations are that you weren’t to be out of bed until your wound was sutured.” a chuckle left his mouth at Jon’s silent curse. “I did tell her that keeping you in a bed, was nearly impossible.”

Any reply that had been on Jon’s tongued died as the door slowly opened.

Grey Worm entered the room without waiting for a response, his helmet in one hand and spear proudly held in the other.  His normally hard gaze softening just a touch, as he turned towards Jon.

“You saved the Khaleesi’s life.” He spoke slowly, wanting to make sure the man knew what it meant to him. He hadn’t particularly been fond of Jon Snow, he didn’t trust him, he had no reason to before the events that took place. But the man had jumped in front of a blade meant for his Queen, that counted for something no matter where you were from.

Jon nodded to him in response, not entirely sure what to say. He hadn’t thought about what he had done, his body had just reacted to the danger Daenerys was in.

“What happened to the body?” Jon asked wondering if they had simply let Drogon burn it.

“Returned to the North.” Davos scratched at the lines on his forehead. “With a letter to both his family and Lord saying that he had attempted regicide.” He had warned about sending the body back. The North’s acceptance of Daenerys Targaryen had been fragile at best, mostly held together because of Jon. Whether one of their own had tried to kill her or not, he doubted they would be happy with a body being sent back to them.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jon briefly wondered what happened to the days of worrying about the Wildlings north of the wall. It had all been so simple back then. There had been no Night King and his army of the dead, he had heard no mention of the ‘Dragon Queen’, he had still been Ned Stark’s bastard.

“I want to see the men,” Jon spoke, turning to look first at Davos and then Grey Worm. maybe they wouldn’t tell Daenerys or her soldiers, but he wanted to believe they wouldn't lie to him.

“No.”

Jon wasn’t sure which one of them had said it, his eyebrow arched in question.

“Even if you hadn’t just been stabbed in the stomach, Daenerys wouldn’t allow it.” Davos glared at him, raising from where he sat. “Whether they say they had nothing to do with it or not, they’re held on conspiracy to commit regicide Jon.” Placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, he wanted him to see reason. This wasn't going to be a case of them telling him they didn't do it and then asking Daenerys to let them go. She could keep them there indefinitely to send a message to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

“So we just there them there to rot!?” Jon’s northern accent became thicker as his irritation grew. If they were innocent then there was no reason to keep them there, and he would make that point to Daenerys herself if he had to.

“What would you do if someone tried to kill you?”

A dark look formed on Jon’s face at Grey Worms question. The scars on his chest and stomach seemed to burn with the memory of the Night Watch’s betrayal. The answer was a simple one, even as the memory played out in his head. Jon had done what he had to that night, he hadn’t allowed sentimentality to rule him. The people who had plotted to murder him, and had done so, had all been sentenced to death by his word.

Davos watched Jon carefully. The tensing of his shoulders, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The memory of the betrayal that night still ate at him, probably more so because he had never truly spoken of it. How could you? How could you talk about being murdered by your own men, and then be brought back to life? Who knew the kind of effect that would have on someone mentally.

Taking several deep breaths, Jon knew that Grey Worm had a point. Whilst also wondering what the worse charge was to the Unsullied, trying to kill Daenerys Targaryen, or trying to kill the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Death could very well be the kindest thing they received. Running his hand through his hair, he paused noticing that his usual tie was missing.

“Where is her Grace?” He asked. If he was to try and arrange their freedom, if his men were indeed innocent, then the more secluded the setting the better it might be.

“In the throne room, waiting to speak to her Hand.” He replied, turning to Davos. Well that was what she had said, in between complaining both he and Davos had told her it was best she avoided Jon’s room. They didn't trust that someone wouldn't be lying in wait for her if she tried to visit the former King of the North.

“Aye,” Davos nodded, giving Jon a final glace as he made his way out of the room. “She said she wanted to discuss forming a small council. Right now we’re short on positions.” Pausing in the doorway, he didn't have to be able to read minds to know Jon was going to do something stupid. Biting back a curse, his eyes narrowed at the younger man who still had his back to him. “You should join us, she appreciates what you think.” The offer hung in the air, Jon only giving a half-hearted nod in response.

Sighing in frustration as he left the room, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as he walked. Davos noted that Grey Worm hung in the room for a minute or two longer, before following behind him. He knew it meant a lot for the Unsullied captain to go to Jon’s room. The suspicion in his eyes, whenever Jon was around Daenerys had been apparent from the start. The only person who seemed to distrust Jon more than Grey Worm had been Jorah, though Davos had suspected that was for a much different reason.

The Keep was too quiet, too empty Davos thought as he walked past another barren room. He had heard of Cersei’s growing madness, but even before her defeat, looking around it didn’t appear anyone actually lived there. In between the pieces of rubble that lined the floors, there were cobwebs, layers of dust, signs that she had truly isolated herself until her last day.

“It’ll take time to get this place looking like it used to,” Davos spoke mostly to fill the silence, aware that Grey Worm likely wasn’t concerned with how the Red Keep had looked before.

Grey Worm stared blankly back at him. Slowly he turned to look at the room Davos had been talking about, either unimpressed or unconcerned at what he was actually looking at. Parts of the Red Keep may have been in ruin or disarray, but that wasn’t something that he would concern himself or his Unsullied with.

Jon listened at his doorway for their footsteps to vanish. He didn't like the thought of sneaking around, and in truth, he would have preferred to be wearing his armour, and have Longclaw at his side, but neither had been in the room when he awoke. Likely taken away to prevent him from doing something stupid.

Closing his eyes as the door opened with a creak, he looked in the direction he had heard them leaving. He had been told that he wasn’t allowed to see the men in the dungeons, but when did ever being told what he could and couldn’t do stop him?

Darting into a passageway, somewhat grateful that he was barefoot to prevent the noise echoing around him, Jon wondered how anyone would be able to find their way around the place. Corridors seemed to branch endlessly, leading to different towers he wasn’t sure the purpose of. The problems he had were, not only was there no one around to ask, but he technically was meant to be resting.

Knowing he at least needed to be going down, Jon followed every set of stairs down that he could find. The less the light was able to reach, the more certain he was that he was going in the right direction. Pulling a torch from a wall, as he walked past empty cell after empty cell, Jon paused, sure that someone was following him, however, when he looked back there was no one there.

Drip drip drip

Wondering if he had made the right decision, whilst also unsure if he could navigate back to his room without someone coming across him, he was ready to take the scolding that would come his way when he heard faint voices.

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t, it’ll be her again, or that bloody eunuch.”

Turning as he tried to figure out where the voices were coming from. he knew they weren’t coming from his immediate vicinity, that much was clear, they were too distant for that. The light of the torch only illuminating a few feet in front of him. Jon stumbled upon another set of stairs that led him even further down, nearly falling down them in the darkness.

The floor seemed like it was built from catacombs. The cells from what he could tell, some doors still open from prisoners long gone, were larger than on the previous floor. The brickwork ceiling arching overhead.

“Jon!” A voice shouted, a look of shock on his seeing his former King appear at the door. Of all people he expected to see in the dungeons, Jon was the last.

Jon didn't reply at first, not immediately able to tell just who it was. Even with his torch, the panel on the door was much too small to get a proper look.

“They killed Asher.” Another voice came, his voice thick with emotion.

“Asher?” Jon asked bemused, the name didn’t sound familiar to him. He hadn’t been aware of an Asher among his men. Turning away as he frowned, he liked to think he knew the names of his men, especially the ones closest to him.

“Asher Forrester,” came the soft response, though it was quickly followed by a dark chuckle as Jon stayed silent. “Loyal to the Lord of Deepwood Motte.”

Jon’s eyes darkened. Lord Robbet Glover. He had planted a man in his midst to kill Daenerys at the opportune moment. He had been a thorn in Jon’s side since they had retaken Winterfell. Though he never thought the man would plan something like this.

“Did he plan the attack with you?” Jon spat, his anger at learning who had been involved bubbling over.

“No.” came the hasty response. “We’ve already told her and her Unsullied that we didn't know what he was going to.”

“She won’t listen to us, she thinks we planned to get close and kill her.”

Jon frowned at that. One of them had gotten close and tried to kill her. That Grey Worm had killed him immediately meant they wouldn’t know if he was working alone.

A noise coming from the shadows behind him caught Jon’s attention. Turning to look over his shoulder, he couldn’t see anything, though that did nothing to stop the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He was certain his mind was playing tricks on him.

“..could talk to her.”

Gray eyes looked back in confusion, not having caught what the man had said to him.

“What?” He questioned, having an idea of what he had been asked.

“Maybe you could talk to her,” Kerith repeated frowning at the other man. They were held on attempted regicide and his leader didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“I..I’ll try,” Jon replied, not knowing just how much good it would do. Even if he gave his word that the other men had nothing to do with it would Daenerys believe him? Would he believe it if he was in her position? He wasn’t so sure. As soon as the name Glover left his lips, he knew Daenerys would be convinced the other men had been involved.

A second noise, this time sounding like a gate was being shut caught their attention. Jon’s eyes narrowed in the direction that it came from. Even if he was only questioning his men, he wasn’t meant to be down there. If anyone had overheard what they were talking about, it could raise too many questions about why he hadn’t taken someone with him.

Moving away from the cell where they were held, and taking a longer path back to the stairs. Jon chose to stay in the shadows, wanting to keep himself out of sight of whoever was making the noise. It would be easier for him if he was able to sneak away than confront whoever was there. As the seconds dragged on, however, it seemed less and less likely that whoever was in the dungeon with him was going to make their presence known.

It was with a heavy sigh that Jon started up the stairs, making a conscious effort to make as little noise as possible. The shadows seemed to grow in front of him, dancing under the light from his torch. Coupled with the silence, he would have to admit, if only to himself, it was unsettling.

Jon paused at the gate which had led him to the third floor of the dungeons, that it was still shut gave him reason to stop. He was sure that he had heard the creak of it opening. Had whoever had been there shut it again, having heard all they needed to? Tensing as he reopened the gate, trying to shut it as quietly as possible, he nearly jumped two violet eyes seemed to come out of nowhere. It took him longer than he would have liked to realise who they belonged to. Still, that did little to settle his nerves.

“Daenerys,” he breathed, how long had she been there? Of all the people he had thought would find him down there, she had to have been at the bottom of the list.

“I forbade you coming down here.” Daenerys spoke matter of factly. She had an idea that he wouldn’t have followed her order. When she saw his room was empty she knew exactly where he would be. That he had outright ignored her order angered her, even if she had known it would do so.  

“You forbade me?” Jon angrily whispered at her, trying to keep his voice down. He was long done being a child who could be ordered about.

“Forbade,” Daenerys repeated, her own anger growing. She was Queen, she couldn’t have him defy her orders, just because he felt like. “I could have Davos right down the definition of the world if you’d like.” She narrowed her eyes at the scathing look Jon gave her if she had been male she was sure he would have struck her.

Brushing past her without a word, not trusting himself to say something he’d regret in anger. He couldn't help the hiss of pain that tore itself free from his mouth, as her hand came into contact with the wound on his stomach.

The annoyance in Daenerys’ eyes was replaced by concern at the sound. Her anger was immediately forgotten. She had only meant to stop him from storming off, her gaze dropped to where he was gingerly holding.

“You should be in your room, resting.” She told him, her hand curling around his wrist to prevent him from leaving.

“I’m fine,” Jon ground out sounding angrier than he was. The gauze under his fingers didn’t feel damp, with how he had twisted from her, he was sure it would have torn more of his skin.

“You’re not fine,” Daenerys scoffed, her previous annoyance at him ignoring her forgotten. Instead, it was replaced by anger that he had been stabbed. _‘A knife that was meant for you’_  a voice in the back of her mind whispered darkly. Lifting the bottom of his tunic, her eye was drawn to the scar on his stomach. She knew there were more, she had seen them after he had someone managed to get himself back to the Wall, following their attempts to capture a white walker. He got stabbed far too often for her liking.

Jon held his breath as Daenerys’ fingers traced the gauze over his latest wound. Her eyes were glued to his, looking for any signs of pain, even if her touch was light.

“If you hadn't been there, it would have been me that was stabbed.” She spoke quietly.

Jon turned away at the words, the image of the knife plunging into her back flashing through his mind. He liked to think that Grey Worm would have been able to stop the man if he hadn’t been there. However, with how slowly the Unsullied Captain had reacted to him grabbing hold of Daenerys, he doubted he would have.

“How many people will try and kill me?” Daenerys asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“They won’t..”

“Won’t stop coming?” She cut him off, anger and sadness lacing her words once again. She had been Queen for a matter of days, and one of his men had already tried to kill her. She was no stranger to attempts on her life, but she would not let it be what her rule was known for.

“It was one man, he failed.” The words sounded fake to even his ears. There would always be people unhappy with her rule, there would always be people unhappy with anyone's rule. That she was a Targaryen would only make her a bigger target, once news got out about how she had taken Kings Landing, it would be doubly so.

“Jon.” The sad smile she gave him, said just how naive she found his words, her hand cupping his cheek, guiding his gaze back to her. One man was likely given orders by another, once the news of his failure made its way back, another would be sent.

He hated how she looked in the dungeons of her castle. Violet eyes wide, she looked so small and vulnerable. Daenerys looked like the young woman who had been forced to fight for everything that she had.

“No one will touch you,” Jon growled at the thought of someone hurting the woman in front of him making his blood boil.

“Are you going to stop them, Jon Snow?” She asked delicate eyebrow raised in question, a small smile forming on her face as he watched the resolve in his eyes.

Daenerys stepped closer, pressing her body against his, her smile widening as she felt him tense against her. Slowly she raised to the tips of her feet, her lips brushing against Jon’s ear.

“Are you going to protect me from every would-be assassin, hiding in the shadows, Aegon Targaryen?”

Davos turned to Grey Worm, a look of confusion etched on his face. The Unsullied captain had said that Daenerys had wanted to speak about forming her small council, yet said Queen wasn’t in the throne room. She couldn’t have gone far, even she had to know that it wouldn't have been safe for her to travel alone.

“She said here?” Davos questioned. It set him on edge that she wasn’t there. With how empty the Keep currently was, they surely would have heard her if she had been walking down one of the other passageways. “She might have gone to the Dragon Pit to see that beast of hers.” he thought aloud, missing Grey Worm’s eyes narrowing at his slight towards Drogon.

Grey Worm replayed her instructions in his head. He was certain that she had told him, after checking on Jon snow he was to bring Davos Seaworth to her to discuss a small council. Had he missed something? His eyes darted from side to side, he didn’t see how that was possible. He made sure that every order she gave him was scorched into his mind.

“You’ve got to be pissing me.” Davos spat in disbelief.

The click of heels hitting the floor cause Grey Worm to turn, brown eyes narrowing at the sight. Heading in their direction was Daenerys Targaryen, an annoyed look on her face that only grew with each step. A step behind her was a slightly guilty looking Jon Snow, his head bowed, not meeting their gaze. Although, if you took a closer look, you would see the hint of a small playing on his lips.

“Ser Davos.” Daenerys greeted them, a decidedly fake smile on her face. “I could have sworn I gave orders, that Jon Snow was not allowed into the dungeon whilst he was still recovering?”

“Apologises your Grace,” Davos glared daggers into his fellow Norther-man, who had decided the wall behind him was the most interesting thing he had seen. “If you knew Lord Snow for as long as I have, you would understand that he has trouble following even the simplest of instructions.”

**Winterfel** l

Sansa Stark sat in the hall of Winterfell deep in thought. It had been days since the news of Daenerys Targaryen taking Kings Landing had made its way North. It wasn’t to be too much of a surprise, she had two dragons, the Dokrathi, her Unsullied and the Northern-men that Jon commanded. The sheer amount of soldiers they had, would have left Cersei and Euron Greyjoy at a disadvantage. Jamie Lannister had mentioned Cersei having the Golden Company, some twenty thousand men. Even that paled in comparison to Drogon and Rhaegal.

Whilst she had prayed for a victory, it was a victory for Jon and her fellow Northern-men she prayed for. She would never admit it to anyone, but deep down she was hoping for news that the Dragon Queen had fallen. She wasn’t a fan of how the smaller woman held her brother's ear, that he would defer to her before making a decision. She wanted the North to be independent of the rule from Kings Landing, and whilst Jon was infatuated with Daenerys Targaryen that would never happen.

If they had won, but the ‘Dragon Queen’ had fallen in the process, Sansa would have pushed for Jon to take up his rightful place as King. He could stay in Kings Landing and rule his Seven Kingdoms, whilst she would be left as the Lady of Winterfell. A position she felt was hers even more so, now that they had found out he wasn’t Ned Starks’ bastard to begin with.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sounds of wheels rolling across the floor of the hall. Blue eyes narrowed on her younger brother, Brann unsettled her and she wasn’t too sure why. Perhaps it was him declaring himself the ‘Three-Eyed - Raven’ whatever that was meant to be. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t sure what his plans were. He had told Arya and herself how Little Finger played a part in their father's death, as well as the death of Jon Arry. Yet she always felt there was another reason only he knew for sharing that information.

“Daenerys Targaryen is the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Brann's monotone voice filling the hall, as he wheeled his way over to.

Sansa didn't offer a reply at first, merely lifting the note that arrived on a raven declaring her the new Queen. She would question what he had been doing the past few days, but she had been told he merely sat by the weirwood. Doing what, she wasn’t so sure, but at the same time she didn't want to know the answer.

“She burnt down half of Kings Landing.” He continued coming to a stop in front of the main table. Sansa’s eyes narrowed, she wanted to ask how he knew that, but she suspected it was the same way he saw Baelish’s betrayal.

“She burnt it down?” Sansa questioned. Her mind racing, never in a million years she did think Daenerys would do such a thing.

“Cersei surrendered to her, she knew she couldn't win the battle.” Brann’s eyes took a faraway look as he recalled the events of what happened. “Daenerys was flying above on Drogon and decided to burn everything she could, men, women, and children all died.”

Sansa turned away as her stomach dropped at the news, even with what she thought of the young Queen she hadn’t expected her to burn civilians alive.

“Arya and Jon?” She asked finally turning back to look at Brann. Since her sister had come back to Winterfell, the pair had bonded like that had never been able to before. She knew deep down that it was because she finally knew Arya didn’t want her position, she could comfortably sit as the head of the family. That, and she had heard her sister refer to her as the smartest person she knew, the ego boost definitely went someway to reinforce their bond.

“Arya is making her way back to Winterfell.” Brann cocked his head to the side, wondering what she was thinking about. He knew his sister wanted to rule Winterfell, that Jon had been declared King of the North had stung her. He had kept her secret that she had wanted Jon to die along with Ramsay Bolton in the Battle of the Bastards, leaving her unquestioned as the Lady of Winterfell.

“Jon?” Sansa asked again, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned their brother. ‘He’s not your brother’ her mind reminded her, the memory of him telling her the truth of his birth echoing in her mind.

“Aegon Targaryen has stayed in the South with his Queen.”

Sansa’s eye twitched at that. Even with what Daenerys had done, he continued to stand at her side. She wondered what it would take for him to see Daenerys for what she was. She had tried warning him before he had left, yet it seemed even now they had fallen on deaf ears. If the deaths of innocent people at her hands, hadn’t opened Jon’s eyes she didn't know what would.

“Why has he stayed?” She asked, not really wanted to hear the answer. It would be the same reason why he had bent the knee, the same thing that Tyrion had told her. It would be a lie, of course, he was a blinded fool, why was it that no one apart from her could see that.

“He loves her,” Brann told her as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He wouldn't tell her that this wasn’t what was meant to happen, Jon was meant to have killed her in the Red Keep. Tyrion Lannister was meant to have convinced him that she was nothing more than Aerys Targaryen’s daughter. Something had changed in the Throne Room, he didn’t know what it was and not knowing wasn’t something that he enjoyed.

Sansa’s lips curled up in a snarl at his words. He loved her. How had the bastard of Winterfell found love with possibly the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, whilst she had been subjected to psychopaths? The fact that Jon was in love with his aunt sickened her, that no one was even questioning it made it even worse to her.

Her chair fell to the floor as she shoved herself from the table. Her mind going into overdrive as she tried to work out how she could use this to her advantage. Robbet Glover would be key to her plans, he had petitioned her to take Jon’s position as head of Winterfell when he had travelled to DragonStone. He had even refused to help them against the Night King, due to Jon bringing Daenerys Targaryen to Winterfell.

“We need the Lords and men who didn’t follow Jon and her to Kings Landing.” She told her younger brother, finding herself unable to say Daenerys’ name. “Don’t tell anyone of what you’ve said, we need to plan carefully.” Sansa ordered Brann. It wasn't that she didn’t trust her brother, it was more that she needed to feed pieces of information to their people in the right way. If she worked this the right way, then she could rally the remaining Northernmen behind her.

Brann watched Sansa storm out of the hall with a knowing smile on his face. All it took was a few well-placed words and she was ready to declare herself the Lady of Winterfell. The North would declare themselves as independent from the realm, and as long as Jon was at Kings Landing, he knew Daenerys would never move against them.

Standing next to the small fireplace in her room, Sansa smoothed out the thick grey dress she wore and adjusted the fur cloak around her neck as she rehearsed her speech. Truths mixed with half-truths is what she would give them. Information on Daenerys Targaryen killing innocent people because she didn’t care about them, but not that their King was choosing to remain at her side.

She knew that House Glover would be the easiest to convince, Robbet had barely tolerated Jon as their King and refused to aid them as long as Daenerys would be around. House Royce would be another one she would try and rally to her side, Yohn’s coldness to Daenerys had been visible from the outset.

A smile formed on her face, she would reach out to Robin Arryn. He would be easy enough to bend to her will, he had sent men to help them during the Battle of Bastards due to them being family. Sansa would use the same notion of this being a threat to their family to have him join her.

A knock on the door drew Sansa from her thoughts. There hadn't been enough time to get everyone she wanted to speak to, but it would have to be enough for now. If the men who had arrived bought into her message, then would be easier for others to do so. Running her hands over his dress one last time, Sansa left her room, head held high.

The atmosphere in Winterfell’s Great Hall was one of anticipation. It wasn’t the excitement following Jon winning the Battle of Bastards, nor the adrenaline after they defeated the Night King and his army. It was a little quieter, there weren’t as many bodies filling every space they could. The chattering voices stopped when Sansa sat in the Lord of Winterfell’s chair, her smile growing wider, it felt right.

“My Lords.” Her voice loud and calm, every eye in the hall was on her. “We have received news from Kings Landing,” if Little Finger had taught her anything, it was to draw out anything she was about to share. “Cersei Lannister and her army have been defeated.”

A rapturous roar went up at that. Men who mightn’t always agree with what the others house was doing embraced. Ale spilled onto the floor as goblets were knocked together in celebration.

Sansa turned to Brann sitting just off the side, a subtle nod was all he gave her. They would let them have this moment, their anger would taste all the sweeter following the feeling of euphoria.

“My Lords,” they continued to cheer, not hearing her. “My Lords!” Sansa shouted standing from her seat, her nostrils flaring in anger, she would not be ignored by these men. Her men! A tight smile on her face, as their voices lowered. “Whilst the war with the Lannisters might be over, we have received some distressing news from Kings Landing.” Pausing to take a deep breath, as she forced a look of distress on her face. “Daenerys Targaryen set Kings Landing ablaze, she has fallen to the madness that consumed her father.”

“I knew she couldn’t be trusted!”

“We should never have let her in Winterfell!”

“She’ll murder us all!”

“We knew her father was the Mad-King.” Yohn Royce’s voice rang the loudest as he pushed himself past some of the other men. His face reddened and jowls shaking as he spoke. “Mi’lady,” he turned to Sansa, bowing his head slightly. “She should never have been allowed to step foot in these halls, your bastard brother wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to Daenerys Targaryen.” He spat the name out like it was something foul in his mouth.

Sansa let the dig at Jon slide with a small nod. She had argued the same point with Jon repeatedly, that other people could see that only reinforced it in her mind.

“Ser Royce,” Sansa smiled kindly at the older man. “I tried numerous times to get my brother, our King to see reason when it came to the Dragon Queen. Sadly my warnings fell on deaf ears.” Turning away as she spoke, letting them think the idea cut deep.

“You could see the way he looked at her,” Yohn spoke over anyone who tried to shout him down. Was this not the proof he had wanted all along, that Jon didn't deserve to be their King? That he had been conflicted and wasn't able to see the North’s interests.

“Where is our King?”

Sansa wasn’t sure who had called out, however, the question would work in her favour. Closing her eyes, she tried to force a tear out, shaking her head sadly.

“Daenerys...Daenerys Targaryen is holding the King of the North as her prisoner, to ensure the North won’t move against her.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name” he licked his lips, knowing she would expect the full title, the subtle cock of her head, a hint of humour dancing behind her eyes. He cleared his throat to hide the amused smirk that was threatening to take over his face. “I now proclaim you, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this chapter took me longer to write than I thought it would. But I've wrote it, that counts for something right? 
> 
> The amazing people on the Jonerys discord have managed to keep me going over the last few weeks, they've even helped me plan some ideas for a future chapter involving CrackHead Pennywise. You should come and join us, we have cake and puppies..  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Ok there's no cake.....or any puppies

**Winds of Change**

**Chapter 3**

  
  
  


Tyrion’s heavy footsteps echoed off of the cold stone floor of Winterfell. The missive crumbled in his hand causing a bead of sweat to form on his brow. What was written on it would cause uproar, that was no secret. Sighing to himself, he wished he had tossed it into the fire in this room, when he saw the wax sigil that set it. Steeling himself, he took a single deep breath, holding onto it as he knocked loudly on the door in front of him.

 

There was no immediate answer, causing him to wrap his knuckles against the door once again, louder this time. The former Hand didn’t want for a response this time, pushing the door open as silence greeted him once again

 

“Lord Tyrion,” Sansa greeted without any warmth, staring at him from his position near the large windows. 

 

Blue eyes flashed with irritation at he had entered her chambers without her say so. She had spent the past few weeks trying to enforce her control over Winterfell, now that Jon was no longer around. It wasn’t something that had gone as smoothly as she thought it would have, even with Robbet Glover taking up her side, there were still people who thought they should have marched to Kings Landing and freed their former King.

 

“Lady Stark,” Tyrion offered a tight smile in response. He twisted the missive in his hands as he moved further into her room, taking a seat at the small table that counted as the sparse decoration in the room. Reaching for the jug of wine, perhaps it would help lessen what he was going to tell her, a deep frown formed on his face when he saw there were only a few drops left it in.

 

“Have you come to my chambers just to see if I had any wine?” Sansa questioned mockingly, brow raised as she stared him down. “I’m sure we can have more sent to your room.”

 

Tyrion pushed the piece of parchment across the table towards her, without a word. Finding whatever was outside the window far more interesting at that point in time.Thankfully he had picked the wax seal off if it, sure Sansa would have thrown him out as soon as she saw the dragon.

 

“What’s that?” She asked looking down at it. If the way he was avoiding looking at her was anything to go by, it couldn’t be good news.

 

He didn’t reply at first, continuing to stare out of the window. His hand tugging at his once trimmed beard, having grown in the weeks that he had been hiding at Winterfell. Tyrion cut his eyes towards Sansa once, and then again.

 

“It comes from Kings Landing.” He spoke softly, preparing himself from the outburst he was sure would come at that. 

 

Sansa paled at that, licking her lips nervously. Whilst she had been trying to rile up her fellow Northern-men at what had happened in Kings Landing, and just who sat on the Throne, there was no hiding the fear in her eyes when she was hidden away.

 

“What does it say?” She whispered, her voice quieter than Tyrion had heard in a long time. He looked down at it and then back to Sansa, twisting his fingers.

 

“It would be better if you read it yourself.” Tyrion replied, pushing it closer to her once again. However if how rigid Sansa was standing was anything to go by, then there was no way she was going to willingly read it.

 

“Just tell me.” 

 

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,” Tyrion cleared his throat, the words already burnt into his head having read them repeatedly in his own chamber. “Requests the attendance of the Lord or Lady of Winterfell, at the coronation of her reign as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Davos Seaworth. Hand of the Queen.” Tyrion spat the last words out, the fact that the Onion Knight had somehow become Hand to Daenerys was something he didn’t understand. 

 

A pained cry came from Sansa’s throat as he finished reciting what had been sent to them. Her fingers ripping the missive to shreds before letting the pieces fall back to the table. Her eyes wide and gasping in short uneven breaths.

 

“You can see why I preferred to tell you with wine.” Tyrion offered a bitter smile forming on his face. He arched his fingers under his chin, watching the younger woman, wondering what she would do. Would she tell her people about it? Would she pretend it had never arrived and play blissful ignorance. Would she dare do what it said and ride south? 

 

“After  _ everything _ she has done” Sansa spat, blue eyes ablaze with fury as she started pacing around the room. “She would demand that I bend the knee like my soft-headed brother!?” Make no mistake about it, she knew that’s what it was. 

 

Sansa’s mind was already working over with the different things Daenerys Targaryen would demand of Winterfell as well as their fealty. Her nerves wouldn’t be as frayed by what Tyrion had told her, if she had heard back from more of the houses she had reached out to. More specifically the Vale and Robin Arryn. So far her cousin had yet to say if they would stand alongside Winterfell and their claim for independence, despite reassurances from Robbet Glover that he would do so.

 

“If Daenerys is truly having a coronation, then she would expect the Lords or in this case, Ladies of all the Kingdoms there to see it.” Tyrion offered seeing the reasoning behind it. If Daenerys was truly going to try and convince the realm that she was a different kind of ruler than her father had been, then it did make sense. Although, that would all rest on just how justified people would ultimately feel Daenerys had been in her conquest of Kings Landing. 

 

“She  _ thinks _ I would ever bend the knee to her, then she truly is the Mad-Kings daughter.” Sansa continued, her voice breaking as she ranted. 

 

“Normally I would advise you to go, a show of fealty even if it was hidden behind lies.” Tyrion rubbed his face tiredly, wondering just how badly this would backfire on them, which it likely would.

 

“You saw her burn down Kings Landing!” Sansa hissed, pointing her finger at Tyrion, her anger growing by the second. 

 

“I said  _ normally _ ,” Tyrion cut off the rest of her triade before it had the chance to start, shooting her a caustic glare at the petulant noise she had in response. “I agree that a Stark in Kings Landing would be the worst thing to happen for the North, especially considering your  _ brother _ .” 

 

Sansa ignored the knowing look he was giving her, at the hint of her lie. Tyrion had wanted to do away with her story that Jon was being held as a prisoner to ensure the North would heel. Too many risks he had told her. If anyone found out the truth, which they very well could considering the amount of people in Kings Landing, then what little power Sansa had taken for herself would quickly be stripped away.

 

As her thoughts turned to her brother-cousin, she wanted to curse him. She had warned him against trusting Daenerys Targaryen again and again, told him what would happen if she gained the Throne. He had cost them so much, because he had fallen in love with the ‘Dragon Queen’ trusted the lies that fell so easily from her mouth. Though that didn’t sting so much as the knowledge that Jon was willingly staying at her side. 

 

“Stand someone in your stead,” Tyrion spoke after a few moments of silence, pulling her from whatever thoughts were plaguing her mind.”Someone expandable that you wouldn’t mind not coming back.”

 

“There is no one expandable in the North.” Sansa snarled at him, she would not have the idea that any of her men were usable to pacify Daenerys Targaryen.

 

“All men are expendable, you just need to find what you’re willing to lose them for.” 

 

Tyrion wanted to roll his eyes at her, as Sansa turned away from him, arms crossed over her chest in a show of childlike defiance. She spoke about wanting the North to be independent from Kings Landing, to be able to govern itself. Did she truly believe that would happen with outward displays of hostility towards the ruling Queen?

 

“Tell me Sansa, have you heard from the Vale?” He probed, the stiffness of her back giving him all the answer he needed. “Does your cousin agree with your plan?” 

 

“I haven’t heard back from Robin Arryn.” Sansa frowned worrying her lip.

 

“Why do you think that is?” 

 

She didn’t have an answer to this question. At least, not one that she was willing to voice. She knew there was a chance that the Vale had already agreed to bend the knee to Daenerys and her rule. The thought of which chilled her to the bone. No, she wouldn’t believe her cousin would so easily bend to a Targaryen ruler, not without hearing her out first.

 

“It hasn’t been that long since I sent the raven to them.” Sansa agreed, knowing that it would sound weak even to her ears. 

 

“Six days,” Tyrion countered, a pointed look in her direction. Six days to wait to hear back from someone you wanted to count as an ally  _ was  _ a long time, no matter how you looked at it. 

 

He wanted for her to say something,  _ anything _ , yet the silence only continued to drag on. Warily sighing, Tyrion shifted from the chair, shooting Sansa a final look as he left the room. She was playing a game, a dangerous game at that and she didn’t seem to fully comprehend it. She clearly saw herself as the rightful ruler of Winterfell and the North, and yet she had no plan to keep the position she had found herself in.

 

“Children,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He knew Sansa had spent time around his sister, and Little Finger, two people who could play Lords better than anyone. Despite her proclamations that she had learnt, Tyrion wondered just how much she actually had. He was loathe to admit it, but Sansa didn’t have the charm to draw people to her the way Daenerys had done so, she was too cold, too standoffish. She wanted people to do what she said, simply because she said it. As soon as that was questioned she would crumble, and then were would they be?

 

**Kings Landing**

 

Jon’s eyes lingered on the scars littering his body, tunic fisted in his hands. He had wanted to check his newest scar, see how it had healed. His gaze however, was drawn as it always was, to the seven larger scars. The dull ache in the back of his head, reminding him of the pain of the betrayal of his own men. A bitter smile formed on his face, it wasn’t the last he would be forced to suffer it, it would seem.

 

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his own thoughts, though the didn’t wait for a response, a click telling him that the door was being opened. He froze, not having the time to even turn around, before the silver head of Daenerys Targaryen made its way into his room. A softer look took over his face, she might have been the only person not to wait for a response before entering. 

 

“My Lord.” She greeted, queenly mask firmly in place, no hint of the warmth that she had when they had last spoke to each other.

 

Jon’s heart clenched, ‘ _ My Lord’  _ no Aegon like she had called him in the dungeons, or even Jon. He tried to school his face into the same indifferent look she was wearing, though he was sure that he had failed.

 

“Your Grace.” He nodded towards her, resisting the urge to squirm under her gaze as something passed behind her violet eyes. 

 

Daenerys’ eyes darkened as she took him in. The request that she had come to see him about, fading from her mind as her gaze dropped to the scars that marred his skin. From the first time she had seen them, she had wondered who had caused them. Had Jon killed them in revenge? She hoped he had, however, if he hadn’t done so, then she would happily make whoever hurt her kin beg for their death.

 

Jon did squirm under her gaze this time. His blood running cold as he watched her eyes drop. He pulled the pale tunic over his head, hiding his scars from inquisitive eyes, feeling more comfortable with them no longer visible.

 

The action cause Daenerys to snap out of her daze, unsure if she should apologise for staring. A slight cough from behind her, reminded Daenerys to why she had come to his room, as well as a reminder that they weren’t alone. 

 

Gray eyes widened slightly as Jon’s attention snapped towards Grey Worm, still standing in the doorway. 

 

There was a beat were the two men stared at one another silently. Daenerys watched with a curious eye, she knew that Jon had earned Grey Worm’s respect, for putting himself in the way of the blade that had been meant for her. Even if the other man would never speak the words.

 

“I have a request to make of you.” Daenerys finally spoke. 

 

The comment drew a ghost of a smile from the man in front of her. She was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she could order him to do anything she wanted, and here she was with a  _ request _ . A nod from Jon was all that she needed.

 

“Tonight, it would please me if it was you who crowns me as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon’s eyes narrowed at the request. Whatever he had been expecting her to ask him, it wasn't that. 

 

“Your Grace,” Jon frowned, wondering if there was anyone better placed to carry out her request. Davos immediately came to mind, her Hand would seem to be the perfect person to carry it out.

 

“A Targaryen crowning another Targaryen,” she continued, ignoring the look on his face at that. “As the rightful Queen, I can choose who I want to crown me. After Cersei destroyed the Sept, they have no men to crown me.”

 

Even at her words, Jon doubted that it was the smartest decision to have him do so. Whilst a few people might have known the truth of his birth, to a lot of Westeros he was still seen as a bastard. A bastard that had the respect of some of the Northern Lord, but as bastard nonetheless. Him leading the charge that took Winterfell back for the Starks mattered little to the people of the South.

 

Daenerys watched as he turned away slightly, lost to his own thoughts. She knew he was prone to overthinking, his mind playing out different ways a situation could play out before anything could happen. Though this would only end one way, with the crown resting on her head.

 

“Jon,” she spoke softer, her hand guiding his face back to hers, her fingers scratching through his beard. She didn’t miss the way his breath hitched at her touch. The softening of his eyes, or the way his own hands twitched in her direction, wanting to pull her closer but stopping himself.

 

Jon finally nodded, moving Daenerys’ hand from his cheek, bringing it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss there. The action earning a faint smile from her, as his lips lingered, before he let go of her hand.

 

“Aye,” he nodded again, “I’ll crown you, if that's what you wish.” 

 

Daenerys stepped back from Jon, the smile still on her face. She had hoped he would have agreed to it, known somewhere in the heart that he would that he would have. Still there was nothing she could do to stop the warmth that filled her when he had agreed

 

“Tonight then.” 

  
  


Daenerys welcomed the silence of Grey Worm at her feel as she stalked towards the Dragon Pit. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, just like it had been when they had been on the boat following meeting Cersei Lannister. The angry black open wounds on his torso and chest flashed in her mind, the image of them sent a sickening cold chill in her stomach. 

 

The loud flap of Drogon’s wings signaled her dragon circling overhead, its large shadow dominating the sky before it landed in front of her. Its large red eyes never leaving her, as she slowly made her way to her last surviving child. His rough scales warm to the touch under her hand, distracting her momentarily.

 

_ “Khalēsi, zȳhon ōdriai”  _ Grey Worm spoke after a few minutes of silence went by. Brows drawn and eyes darting to the side. It had only been brief, before Jon Snow had pulled the tunic down, realising what they had been staring at. A look of fear in his eyes, before it was quickly masked.

 

_ “Ȳdragon, ñuha raqiros,”  _ Daenerys replied, keeping her back to him. She didn't trust what would be in her eyes if she looked at him.

 

_ “Daor vala would botagon zirȳ.  Issi iēdrosa open”  _  Grey Worm paused, waiting for her to say something, however with each passing second it seemed that she wasn’t going to say anything. He watched as Daenerys continued to stroke Drogon, her back tense and rigid. 

 

Daenerys’ had paused at the words. It was the same thing that had gone through her head when she had first seen them on the boat. Wondering how anyone would have been able to survive the seven stab wounds. Why wasn’t there a single stitch in any of them? They appeared as fresh as the day they had been caused, seemingly left untreated. Yet at the same time, they didn’t bleed, they weren’t weeping with infection.  _ Someone  _ had treated them, who that person was, was a different question.

 

She furrowed her brow, her hand coming to rest against Drogon’s snout. She knew the man occupying her thoughts would tell her if she asked. He had flinched whenever she had previously touched the scars. A guarded look appearing behind his eyes, preparing himself for the questions he was sure was going to come next. 

 

_ ‘He took a knife in the heart for his men’ _

 

The words rang in her head, just as they had done when Davos Seaworth had spoken them in DragonStone. A dark look from the King of the North at the time, had cut off anything else he had been ready to say. 

 

Violet eyes darted to the side. Her Hand  _ knew _ . He had been with Jon before he had he left the Night’s Watch. She wasn’t blind, his loyalty to Jon was clear to anyone who had eyes, perhaps the most loyal Northerman she had come to know. 

 

‘Would he tell her?’ Daenerys wondered, would he betray the trust Jon clearly had in him? She doubted it, from what she knew of Davos, he didn’t seem the kind to share the secrets of others. Still she was his Queen now, he had agreed to be her Hand. Her decision made, she didn’t turn to Grey Worm, knowing the man was still behind her, waiting for her command.

 

“Bring me Davos Seaworth.”

 

Grey Worm gave her a single nod, before turning on his heel. He would find the older man, and would only hope that he would tell their Queen what she wanted to know. 

 

Davos waited warily outside of his new Queen’s chambers. She had summoned him, but for what, he wasn’t sure. He had been making arrangements for her coronation ceremony, left to do so by himself. Coming to terms with the idea that there still wasn’t a fully functioning small council, was something he was struggling with, as it left a lot on his shoulders. Daenerys had claimed she wouldn’t implement one, until she knew exactly what houses would be loyal to her. She had suffered through enough betrayal to allow anyone to have the chance to do so again.

 

“Enter Lord Hand,” Daenerys’ voice rang out, through the small opening of the door, already aware of him waiting on the other side.

 

Davos braced himself, his mind still going through anything she would want to speak to him about. Entering the room, his eyes immediately found her, standing arms behind her back in the centre of the room watching him with a small smile on her face.

 

“Your Grace,” he replied, his smile taking a second longer than hers before he locked the door behind him. “You wish to speak to me?”

 

“Sit.” She gestured towards the empty chair in the corner of the room. “It’s about Jon Snow,” she didn’t want for him to actually get to the seat before she started.

 

“I’m not sure what I can tell you, that the man himself wouldn’t.” Davos frowned, despite the new position he found himself in regarding Daenerys, he  _ had _ been Jon’s Hand for a time. 

 

“Perhaps,” hands joined in front of her stomach, her mind when back to the conversation Grey Worm had with her earlier. It had been something that she had thought about for some time, something that she didn’t think the man himself would discuss with her. “You were Lord Snow’s advisor before he reclaimed Winterfell.”

 

“I was.” Davos replied, eyes flicking across her face, wondering just what she wanted to ask him.

 

“You were close with him when he was at Castle Black, when he was part of the Night’s Watch.” 

 

Davos swallowed, choosing not to say anything as he looked past Daenerys. He now knew where this conversation was heading, but it wasn’t  _ his _ conversation to have.

 

“When I first arrived at Winterfell, the Northern-men said Jon Snow was Lord Commander of The Night's Watch.” Daenerys’ eyebrow lifted slightly, watching him for any kind of reaction. “Ty..Tyrion found it strange, although he would never say so in public. He told me the vows that the men take at Castle Black are for life.”

 

“Aye, they are.” Davos muttered, watching as something akin to understanding flashed in her violets eyes, followed quickly by a burst of anger before it vanished. Replaced by the cool mask that she always seemed to wear since they had left Winterfell.

 

“Tell me my Lord,” Daenerys silently moved towards him, eyes narrowing when he didn’t meet her gaze. “How was Jon Snow’s body scarred so?” 

 

Davos’ eyes snapped shut at her question. She wasn’t talking about the thin scar on his face, or the numerous faint scars that would have come from years of training. No, she was talking about the seven knife wounds that dotted across his torso, an act of betrayal by the men he only wished to save.

 

He turned away from her, knowing it wasn’t his story to tell. He also knew however, that it wasn’t something Jon was willingly going to tell anyone. Despite the horrors they had all seen, he knew his former King doubted anyone would believe that he had been killed and brought back to life. Just how did you tell someone that? 

 

“That isn’t my story to tell, your Grace.” He offered. The tight smile that appeared on his face, told him it wasn’t the answer she hadn’t to hear, even if it was likely the one she had expected. 

 

Daenerys’ eyes flashed with annoyance as she stared at Davos. She tried a different tact.

 

“Grey Worm believes the wounds he sports are ones that no normal man would be able to survive, my Lord.” She watched as something flashed behind blue eyes. Something dark and angry, a memory of something that Davos clearly wanted to forget.

 

“Jon Snow isn’t a normal man.” Davos replied, a hint of a small proud smile forming on his face. 

 

The affection he held for the man was something that was clear to anyone. It was something that drew a smile from Daenerys, she knew what that kind of loyalty felt like. 

 

“You might be correct Lord Hand.” Her nephew was an extraordinary man, even if he would refute that suggestion if he heard it. “Tell me then, do you believe Jon would tell me if I was to ask him about his scars?” Daenerys questioned, watching as his face fell slightly. She knew her answer even before she finished asking him. Jon would withdraw from her, and silently brood if she brought up the unhealed scars, shy away from her touch.

 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

 

Daenerys gave a slight nod to that. She could order him as his Queen to tell her the secret of his scars. Of why his face darkened whenever someone had mentioned his time at Castle Black, and how the Night’s Watch vows were meant to be until death, yet  _ he _ had managed to leave. 

 

“I believe you might be correct.” Daenerys turned from Davos, signalling their conversation was over. Their conversation didn’t bring her any answers, she knew she should have been angry by the lack of answers Davos had given her. Perhaps if she had thought there had been a chance of him spilling what she wanted to know, then she would have been. The older man had been steadfast in his refusal to say anything, really his loyalty was admirable. She would have to get her answers another way.

**Kings Landing Throne Room**

  
  


Jon followed Davos towards Daenerys Targaryen, and the throne she was sitting on. His hands carefully folded behind his back, as he came to a stop a few paces in front of her. He had questioned why she would be crowned now, not when the Lords arrived to pledge their fealty. 

 

Davos had agreed with him, at least in part. Officially crowning her in front of everyone, would send a message that the last King of the North saw her as the rightful Queen. However, the Onion Knight had also pointed out, any animosity from the other Lords would only be increased once drink was shared. Crowning her at the end of the night, would only open themselves to a messy situation.

 

Jon closed his eyes, his fingers curling around the golden crown that Davos handed him. A small nod before he took his place at Daenerys’ side.

 

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name” he licked his lips, knowing she would expect the full title, the subtle cock of her head, a hint of humour dancing behind her eyes. He cleared his throat to hide the amused smirk that was threatening to take over his face. “I now proclaim you, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms."

 

Daenerys slowly stood as he finished, an amused glint in her eye at the fact he had refused to use her titles. If it had been anyone else, she would have demanded they refer to her by the titles she had rightly earned. 

 

Jon stepped closer to her, closer than he needed to. Daenerys kept her eyes on his face, his gray eyes softening as he placed the crown on her head. Calloused fingers brushed lightly down her cheek, a soft smile on his face caused her heart to skip a beat. Daenerys’ gaze dropped to his mouth, his tongue wetting them slightly. She wanted his lips against her own, she would have them. She was a dragon, she took what she wanted.

 

“Your Grace.” Davos’ voice pulled them from their haze, though if the teasing smile was anything to go by, he knew exactly what he had done. He didn’t flinch under their frustrated looks, stroking his beard to try and hide the smile that was only growing. “Your  _ guests _ will be arriving soon, I’m sure Lord Snow and yourself will be able to celebrate this later.”

 

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at her Hand, a biting comment ready on her tongue. Jon stepping away from her, drew her attention back to him instead, her heated gaze telling him just how she was planning on celebrating this victory. 

 

“Tonight.” She nearly purred at him, her eyes dancing as Jon ducked his head, trying to hide his own smile.

 

Jon moved to stand off to her side, the other side that Davos and Grey Worm stood, his gaze flicking back to Daenerys despite himself. She looked smaller standing in front of the Iron Throne. The oversized chair made for someone larger than the current Queen. Though that wasn’t an opinion he would voice aloud, the irritated look that was on her face, as she watched the men and women of her realm slowly make their way into the Great Hall.

 

His eyes dropped to the red dress she was wearing, it looked soft, silk he thought to himself, his hand twitched at his side, wanting to feel if it was a soft under his fingers as it looked. 

 

Jon’s eyes lingered as stepped forwards, the open back of revealing more skin that he thought it would, what was left hugged her skin, highlighting the curves underneath. A strangled sound tore itself free from his mouth, though he tried to cover it as best as he could, the action proved futile. 

 

She had heard him.

 

Violet eyes darkened as Daenerys stared back at Jon. a teasing, knowing smirk on her face as she watched him force his eyes back to her face, his face flushed at being caught. She could feel her skin heat up were his gaze touched, even if the guilty look at being caught amused her. She wanted him to keep looking at her like that, the hunger in his eyes.

 

Daenerys went to reach for him, to have him walk with her, however his gaze moved past her. He stood straighter, his mouth set in a thin line as the footsteps tore them from their brief moment. Daenerys schooled her own expression, Queenly mask falling back into place. 

 

She turned to watch as the Lords of  _ her _ Kingdoms slowly make their way into the Great Hall. She would listen to them congratulate her on overthrowing Cersei Lannister. Their sweet lies about how happy they were, now she was  the new Queen, how they had always wanted a Targaryen back on the throne. It mattered not, she’d let them have their lies. They would still bow to her all the same.

 

“Your Grace.” Davos greeted her with a smile, their previous conversation gone from his mind. His own eyes scanning the men that had arrived. “Not all the Lords have arrived,” he whispered, knowing it was better to be told now then demand to know where they are later.

 

“Haven’t arrived, or have refused to show?” Came the clipped response.

 

Davos sighed, turning his head from her slightly. Truthfully, he didn’t know. Some Lords had sent ravens back, stating their refusal to attend, others had simply gone unanswered. 

 

“They need a reason to see you as a different kind of Queen.” He tried, she had known that there would be people who would never be happy to see a Targaryen back on the throne. Some mistrust ran too deep for people who lived through the latter days of her father’s reign.

 

“See me as a different Queen?” Daenerys’ eyes blazed with anger. “I am  _ their _ Queen, they  _ will _ bend the knee to me.”

 

Davos wanted to argue the point, that this wouldn’t help her cause. Cersei’s reign had been filled with fear and hatred, was that something she wanted people to associate with her as well?

 

“Your Grace?” 

 

Daenerys turned away from her Hand, delicate eyebrow raised the boy looked younger than she was. He stood over a head taller than her, his hair brushed back, and not a whisker on his face. He wore a pale tunic, embroidered with a designed she couldn’t make out clearly, though in the center of his chest rested a small bronze falcon.

 

“Robin Arryn,” Davos spoke, sounding somewhat surprised at seeing the young man there. His eyes narrowed suspiciously before he tilted his head towards Daenerys. “Lord of the Eyrie, and cousin to the Starks,” he added. 

 

Daenerys’ eyes hardened at that, the reception she received from that family was something that lingered with her. 

 

“My Lord.” She returned regarding him carefully. He was young, too young to be a Lord. He still looked like a boy, not someone who appeared ready to rule. “I wonder what your cousin’s reaction would be knowing you are here.”

 

He had the grace to look away at the comment, a flurry of emotions passing across his face too quick for her to pinpoint what they were.

 

“Winterfell cannot have sway over what the Vale chooses to do,” Robin replied, his words gaining more confidence as he spoke. “Whether my family sits there or not.”

 

Daenerys nodded, somewhat pleased at his words. 

 

“Then you’ve come to bend the knee.” 

 

“I..” Robin’s eyes dropped, fidgeting under her attention. “I will be at Kings Landing for a few nights. I have come to see first hand what kind of Queen Daenerys Targaryen will be.”

 

Her face hardened at his words. She was growing increasingly tired of hearing people tell her they wouldn’t see her as the rightful Queen. 

 

“A wise decision Lord Arryn,” Davos cut off anything she was going to say. Shooting her a look that told her not to disagree. “I’m sure by the time you depart for the Eyrie, her Grace will be able to count on you having made the right decision.

 

Sam eyes nervously found his only friend, across the Throne Room of the Red Keep. he pulled at this neck, the tunic too tight around his throat. He hadn’t wanted to come, not really. However, he  _ had _ wanted to see his friend, they hadn’t spoken much after the revelation about the truth of his birth. He had thought Jon would have gone back to Winterfell once he had fulfilled his promise and helped Daenerys take Kings Landing. 

 

Sam looked down at the wine he had picked up, something to occupy his hands at the time. Dornish wine, he found it too sweet after the first sip, though if the amount that was being served was anything to go by, that wasn’t a widely accepted thought. His eyes scanned the crowds once again, for what was meant to be a celebration for Daenerys’ coronation. However, said Queen was stood with one of her Unsullied guards and Davos Seaworth, a tight smile on her face, as a Lord was talking to her. 

 

Weaving in between the multiple bodies in this way, Sam made his way towards Jon, noting the other man still hadn’t noticed him, too lost in his own thoughts. He paused mid step as he took in his friend. Jon’s hair had been pulled back in the small leather tie that had become customary for him, his beard not as trimmed as it usually was. Sam watched as gray eyes continually went back to Daenerys Targaryen, his jaw clenching whenever someone got too close to her.

 

“J.Jon.” forcing down his nerves down, Sam couldn’t help but notice the far away look that Jon had in his eyes, before he slowly turned towards him. It took a few seconds for recognition to appear, something that unsettled him. Even when it did, there was no warmth on his friend’s face.

 

“Sam,” Jon replied, his gaze quickly flicked back out towards the men and women who were gathered. 

 

Jon doubted he would have been at ease with the number of people who were in the Throne Room in the first place. That he knew of where the attempt on Daenerys’ life had come from, something he had yet to deal with, was something that was weighing heavily on his mind.

 

“Daenerys Targaryen rules instead of you.” Sam started, recalling when he questioned whether or not she would give up the crown, though now he had an answer to that. Perhaps not the one he had wanted, but an answer nonetheless. 

 

Jon’s eyes cut angrily back to him, his mouth set in a thin line. He had wondered what answer his friend, could he even still call him that, was looking for. 

 

“Daenerys was the heir to the Iron Throne.” Jon’s hands twitched at his side. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face, the Red Keep was warm, too warm. The fact that he was wearing his furs, although lighter than the ones he would wear in Winterfell, meant he was quickly become uncomfortable. Something that would only get worse if this line of conversation continued

 

“Your parents..” he started, his words dying a death at the low growl that tore itself from Jon’s throat. Jon’s attention snapped to something behind him, his back straightening.

 

“Samwell Tarly, how nice to see you.” 

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering just how much she had heard before calling to him. A final glance at Jon told him nothing, before he slowly turned to face the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

 

“Y..Your Grace,” he bowed clumsily.

 

Sam wanted to say something else before his gaze settled on the crown she was wearing. Golden dragons curled around her head, resting on top of interwoven flowers, tying one dragon to the other. The center of her crown, sat a large ruby sitting on top of a thin intricate pattern of vines, two small leaves jutting out just underneath.

 

“You’ve been quiet tonight, My Lord.” Daenerys’ attention turned to the man behind him, her face softening slightly, as she sipped her wine.

 

“Forgive me your Grace,” Jon bowed his head towards her, “large gatherings have never been something I’ve been overly fond of.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, just how uncomfortable Jon looked was obvious to anyone who would so much as spare him a glance.

 

“We have things that we need to discuss, later tonight I would prefer you to be have a sober mind.” She reminded him. Violet eyes flicked flicked towards the glass of ale in his hand, a frown quickly forming as she wondered how he could stomach the taste of it. The one time she had tried it at Winterfell, she had found the ale to be too bitter on her tongue, fitting of the North it would seem.

 

Jon nodded in response, his eyes following Daenerys as she walked away, mixing once again with the crowd, the Unsullied that had been by her side earlier not far behind. Realising that he was being watched, he turned to Sam, seeing that he was ready to say something. 

 

Sighing, Jon took one last glance around the Throne Room, not wanting anyone to hear whatever was on Sam’s mind, leading his friend towards the chamber of the Small Council.

 

“Whatever you want to say Sam, out with it.” Jon sighed in annoyance, ready for him to try and continue the debate about just who should have been sitting on the throne. Something Jon thought, he had put to bed whilst he had been at Winterfell despite no one seemingly listening to him.

 

“You still follow her, despite everything that’s happened.” Sam started carefully, not wanting to actually say what he thought about that, not just yet anyway.

 

“Where-else would I be?” Jon questioned frowning slightly at him. He wouldn't trust Daenerys to be safe, if he wasn’t there to see it himself. 

 

“Winterfell, The North” Sam offered as if it was the obvious answer.

 

Jon snorted in disgust at that, running his fingers through his hair at the stupidity of the suggestion.

 

“The North,” pausing to take a deep breath to calm himself. “The people of the North couldn’t handle a Targaryen being there when she had come to help save their lives. How do you think they’d react knowing the man who chose to be their King was a Targaryen.”

 

“No one would tell them. You would be Jon Snow.” Sam countered.

 

“You think Sansa would keep the truth of my birth a secret, if she thought there was any chance of them wanting me to take her position.” His sister, cousin he corrected, was ambitious and would not let anyone stand in her way. She had tried to undermine him when he had been King of the North enough times, he didn’t want to think about what she would try and do if he arrived at Winterfell looking to unseat her. 

 

“You stay next to a woman who killed my father and brother, because they wouldn't bend the knee.” Sam tried again, wondering if that meant anything to the man he considered his closest friend. Tears welling in his eyes remembering how Jon had stood there when she told him.

 

“Your father,” Jon muttered darkly, turning away from him, his temper fraying with each second. “Your father is a man that hated you Sam,” he wondered where this sense of loyalty was coming from. “You said he threatened to kill you, he sent you to the Castle Black to die!” he spat angrily, if he had something in his hand it would have been thrown against the wall. “Your father was a cunt, who fought alongside Jamie Lannister.” He glared at Sam, who wilted under his fury. “If I had become King, like you wanted me to, I would have killed him myself.” He snarled, briefly wondering what this friend thought would have happened if things had turned out differently. 

 

Was Sam so blind, that he thought Jon would have spared his father if he had been King? He had sided with the Lannisters, the people that had caused his family so much suffering over the years. There would have been no forgiveness for that, not anymore.

 

Sam stared at his friend in shock, not having expected the words for come from Jon, before nodding sadly. He had wanted to say more, he had come to say more. Jon however, looked like he was readying himself for a fight, shoulders tense and his fingers curling tightly around the chair he was stood in front of. 

 

Jon held his breath as the door shut behind Sam, the battle to keep his temper in check was something he was rapidly losing. With a strangled cry he tossed the chair across the room, it splintering as it collided with the wall doing little to calm him. He was becoming more and more tired of people questioning his decisions. At Castle Black, Winterfell, Kings Landing. Everyone seemed to want to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do, should and shouldn’t say. 

 

Daenerys smiled politely around the glass of arbor gold. Her eyes darting back towards the doorway Sam had come back out of, some time ago. She had expected her moody lover to follow his friend out, however he had yet to reappear. She would give him a little bit longer before going to him, she would not have him brooding all night, even if that would likely be his default position. 

 

It came as a surprise to her then, that Jon emerged from the chamber himself, although if the stormy look on his face was anything to go by, then he was hardly in the best of moods. That wouldn’t do, not at all. 

 

“You appear to wish you were anywhere but here.” Daenerys spoke softly, causing Jon to jump, not having realised that she had snuck up on him. Eyebrow cocked and a teasing smile on her face, as watched his skin flush at being read so easily. “Our family has waited a long time for this,” she continued, her hand moving up the gambeson he was wearing with a small frown. The material rougher than something she would have picked.

 

Jon’s eyes darted to her at ‘ _ our family’, _ his mind still trying to come to terms with the idea of not being a Stark. His fingers curled around her own, resting them over his heart before moving their hands away. 

 

“Escort me to my room?” Daenerys asked, inwardly smiling as his eyes darkened at the invitation. She didn't think think Jon would refuse, watching his throat bob as he swallowed. 

 

Jon nodded, slowly offering her his arm, noting that no one was paying them too much attention. The Lords and Ladies that came to Kings Landing to swear fealty having drank too much wine. Their flushed faces signalling that many of them had stopped paying attention to what was happening around them, some time ago. Even if they were watching them, let them talk.

 

Daenery smiled conspiratorially, as she led them towards Maegor’s Holdfast. Curling herself around his arm as they walked silently. 

 

“Sansa didn’t attend.” Jon finally spoke, fully aware it was something she would have known. He hadn’t expected his sister, cousin, to be there, the fact that she had seemingly ignored the raven was answer enough. However, he still felt the need to address it. 

 

“She will still need to bend the knee.” Daenerys replied. Her face searching his for the understanding that Sansa wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t  _ be allowed to think her word was law, and she could ignore those who sat on the throne in Kings Landing. 

 

Jon’s closed shut as he chewed his lip, before nodding at her.

 

“I know,” he signed looking down at her. “I could ride for Winterfell, talk to them..

 

“No.” Daenerys cut him off, eyes flashing dangerously at the idea of it. She had no reason to trust Sansa Stark in anything she said or did. She wouldn't trust her with the man next to her. No, the best place for him was at her side. 

 

Jon cut her eyes to her, confusion on his face. She wanted declare fealty to her. She had to, if she wanted her rule over the Kingdoms to smoothly. He knew she would never listen to Daenerys, she had shown that whilst they had been in the North, the outward hostility had been suffocating at times.

 

“If not Winterfell, somewhere closer?” He offered, already knowing the answer to that by the look on her face.

 

“Are you so eager to leave?” Daenerys rolled her eyes as she moved into her room. It was easier to act like he wanted to leave her, like everyone else had, then face the truth of what could happen to him if he left Kings Landing. 

 

“Dany.” Jon whispered following her, he would always follow her. 

 

She paused at the name, when was the last time he had called her that? When she had asked him to keep the truth of his parents a secret for her sake? When he had first flown Rhaegal and they had gone to the waterfall?

 

Turning to him, she could feel her heart speed up in her chest at the way he was looking at her. The softness of his gray eyes taking her aback, she took a slow step backwards as Jon made his way towards her. 

 

“You are my  _ kin,  _ blood of my blood.” Forcing herself to look him in the eye, feeling the table press against her legs as he continued his walk towards her. She wanted to make him understand her concerns about him meeting with Sansa Stark, “They will not take you from me.” Daenerys muttered darkly. 

  
  
  


**Deepwood Motte**

 

Robbet Glover couldn't help the small snarl that had been a permanent feature of his face for the past few days. There had been whisperings coming from Kings Landing, and the Dragon Queen’s coronation. He had thought that Daenerys Targaryen would have been killed by now, murdered brutally like the rest of her family deserved to be. 

 

He spat on the floor in anger, before reaching for a glass of wine, ignoring the stains that were already on the black jerkin he was wearing. The look on his face dared question to challenge him, whilst he was in his foul mood. Wiping the wine that ran down the sides of his beard, his thoughts darkened. Daenerys Targaryen was still very much alive. What was worse, was Ned Stark’s bastard had been the one to put the fucking crown on her head. 

 

His weathered hands shook with anger, as he cut into the meat in front of him. The former Warden of the North would be rolling in the crypts at Winterfell, he was sure of that. How else would he react finding out this bastard, had sided with the daughter of the man who had murdered his family members. 

 

“I knew he couldn’t be fucking trusted.” He growled to himself. If Sansa had simply taken the title as Queen of Winterfell, like he had wanted her to whilst Jon had been at Dragonstone, then this mess could have been avoided. She wouldn’t have been swayed by a pretty smile and tight cunt, but she had refused his request, and now they were left dealing with a Targaryen on the Iron Throne once again.

 

Hurried footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, watching as one of his stewards, something clenched tightly in their hand. 

 

“Mi’Lord,” he breathed out, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The sigil on the back of the missive had filled him with dread, and he had no idea what it contained, however he didn't know how it could be anything good. “From Kings Landing,” he offered the parchment out to the older man.

 

A disgusted snort tore itself free from the white haired Lord’s throat as he snatched it from his stewards hand. No doubt it contained the details on how he could be expected to recompense for his refusal to attend Kings Landing. Sanctions for their imagined slight, possibly even a demand that he bend the knee to Daenerys Targaryen immediately. He shook his head as he tore it open, that would never happen.

 

_ ‘The Lord of Deepwood Motte’s presence is demanded at Kings Landing’ _

  
  


Khalēsi zȳhon ōdria - Khaleesi his wounds

Ȳdragon, ñuha raqiros - Speak my friend

Daor vala would botagon zirȳ.  Issi iēdrosa open - No man would survive them. They are still open

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'll put this one here. There _was_ going to be smut at the end with Dany and Jon, but I'm not that great at writing it, so it was pulled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What right do you have to summon me?” The older man was unable to keep the hatred out of his voice, as he glared at Jon who hadn’t moved from his spot. “You’re not a King anymore, bastard.” 
> 
> gray eyes narrowed darkly at the insult, nostrils flaring with barely controlled temper. Though, it was the glow, dangerous growl coming from behind him that caused him to stop. 
> 
> Leaning forward in her seat, violet eyes dancing in anger and her lip curled up in a snarl at the dig, as she glared at the white-haired man.
> 
> “ You’re talking to Aegon Targaryen.” Daenerys spat icily at him, violet eyes burning with barely concealed rage. “I’d watch my tongue, My Lord, whilst you still have it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the note at the end of the chapter

Jon let a tired sigh fall from his mouth, as he sat at the desk of Daenerys’ solar. When he had let slip that he needed a conversation with her Hand, and the captain of her Unsullied, she had willingly given up the space. He had been pleasantly surprised at that, at the fact that she hadn’t asked  _ what _ he wanted to talk to them about. Taking a sip of the wine that had been on her desk, it was sweet,  _ too _ sweet, yet it seemed to be the preferred drink for the Queen. 

 

Pouring two more glasses of wine, when a quiet knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Readying himself for the conversation he knew he was going to have, he moved to open the door, finding the two men waiting on the other side. 

 

“Lord Snow,” Davos nodded before following him into the solar before all formality fell away. Grey Worm following silently behind him, a small frown on his face. “What’s this about lad?”

 

Jon didn’t say anything at first, retaking his seat and pushing the glass of Arbor Gold wine towards Davos, before sliding the other cautiously towards Grey Worm. Taking his own sip, before he spoke.

 

“Robbet Glover will be arriving in Kings Landing shortly.” He stated matter of factly.

 

“Would her Grace not be the one to advise us of this?” Davos questioned, a frown forming on his face. That Jon had arranged it was strange, as far as he was aware, he had no power in Kings Landing. 

 

“Daenerys doesn’t know that he’s coming,” Jon responded after a few minutes of silence, his eyes not leaving the older man’s face, waiting to see what kind of reaction he would receive.

 

_ That _ earnt him a surprised look, Davos’ eyebrow lifting to his receding hairline. Blue eyes darted towards the Unsullied captain sitting opposite him. A deep frown on his face, as he turned towards Jon, his body tense and eyes narrowed.

 

“She doesn't know?” He questioned, wanting to make sure he had heard it right. His mind ran with different ideas as to why they’d keep this from her, none of them making any sense to him. This was dangerous, dangerous and stupid.

 

“Aye, she doesn’t know,” Jon repeated, his knuckles rapping the desk as he spoke. “I want to keep it that way, she won’t find out until he’s here.”

 

Davos forced back a curse. He was right, it  _ was _ dangerous and stupid. Nothing good would come of this, their secrecy would quickly be discovered.

 

“Why keep this from her?” 

 

Jon’s head snapped around at the question. It wasn’t Davos that had asked him, but Grey Worm, who was currently staring a hole in him. There was no mistaking the barely hidden anger behind his eyes. 

 

Jon’s fingers tightened around the glass in front of him, for lack of something to do. 

 

“I’ve been told that the attempt on Daenerys,” he chuckled quietly at the dark look he received from Grey Worm at his use of her name. “ _ Her Grace’s _ life, when she first took Kings Landing, came from Robbet Glover.” 

 

That comment sucked the air out of the room. Grey Worm’s hands gripped the edge of the desk that tightly, he wondered if the Unsullied captain would break a piece of it off in his barely concealed anger.

 

Jon watched him carefully, he knew he was loyal to Daenerys, the idea of not telling her something about the man who tried to kill her was strange. The idea of keeping something from her was so foreign to him, it was written all over his face.

 

“Who told you this?” Davos asked darkly. He was no stranger to people plotting to kill Kings or Queens. Since the death of Robert Baratheon, it seemed to be the currency that kept Westeros afloat at times. 

 

“The men in the dungeon,” Jon downed his glass wine at that. He knew they weren’t the more reliable of sources, they were imprisoned, charged with attempted regicide, yet he felt a truth to their claim. 

 

“Men in the dungeon,” Davos repeated shaking his head, his brow furrowed as he spoke. It sounded weak to his ears, he knew it had to sound the same to Jon.

 

“She should know.” Grey Worm spoke again, the anger in his eyes reflected in his tone. 

 

Jon turned towards him, he had already expected one of them to say it. He might have done the same if it wasn’t his plan.

 

“If Daenerys knows, she’ll have him killed as soon as he steps foot in Kings Landing.” 

 

The looks he received from both men said that’s exactly what  _ should _ happen, if what he was saying was true. Sighing as he poured himself another glass of wine, for the lack of anything better to do with his hands.

 

“He’s not dying as soon as he gets here,” he glared at them, “Dany isn’t having him killed.” Jon missed the cocked eyebrow from his former Hand, at the use of her shortened name. A name Davos was sure she wouldn’t allow anyone else to use.

 

“Who’s going to do it?” Davos asked certain he knew the answer to that. The hardening of gray eyes only confirmed that, before the words were even spoken.

 

“I will.” Came the simple reply, words that left no room for argument. “When he gets here have two Unsullied bring him to the Red Keep, the Throne Room. Take his weapons, but no one harms him.” He turned towards Grey Worm, knowing that  _ he _ would be the hard one to convince to go along with his plan. 

 

The Unsullied captain let out an annoyed sigh, his eyes narrowed into pinpricks. He battled with the idea of keeping something from his chosen Queen, the idea of not killing the man who conspired to have her killed as soon as he saw him. The only thing that stopped him from refusing and leaving the room, was the burning rage in Jon’s eyes, that made them look more black than gray. The barely hidden promise of death for the man they were talking about.

 

“You will kill him?” Grey Worm asked, almost as if Jon hadn’t just said those words to them. A subtle nod was given in response, only to give one back in return. “Then the Unsullied will not touch this man.” He stood suddenly from his chair, receiving the answer that he wanted. If Jon had had said he wasn’t going to kill the other man, he would have no reason to keep this information from their Queen.

 

Walking silently towards the door, no desire to stay in the room anymore. His mind was still warring with the idea of keeping this from Daenerys, however, he would do so, for as long as Jon kept his word of killing Robbet Glover. If not, then he would have him dragged in front of Drogon for Daenerys to burn alive, and then Jon would have lost any faith or trust he currently had in him. 

 

Coming to a stop his hand resting on the latch to the door, Grey Worm turned, his eyes resting on the former King in the North.

 

“You will spar with me,” it wasn’t a request, watching as his cock cocked to the side in question. “The men who follow her will want to see how you fight. To see if she has chosen a strong King.”

 

Jon’s brow furrowed at that. The Dokrathi and Unsullied had seen how he fought, they had seen it during their battle against the Night King and his army of the dead. However, he had no doubt that he wasn’t being asked to spar with Daenerys’ captain. A single nod of his head seemed to be good enough for the dark-skinned former slave, receiving one in return before he left the solar.

 

Slowly turning away, Jon met the morose stare of the man to his side. 

 

“You don’t approve.” It wasn’t a question, it was clear in his eyes that Davos didn’t agree with his plan.

 

“Lad,” he started, stroking his beard as he tried to find the words. “If Glover has done it, then you know I’d agree with you.” he shook his head. “If he wasn’t involved in the attempt on her life,” he let the words hang in the air, he needed him to know that if what he had been told was wrong, then Jon would arranging the death of an innocent man. Say nothing of the reaction it would cause in the North

 

Jon turned away, his eyes shut briefly. He knew how it would look if he was wrong about this. He could feel something in his stomach that told him he wasn’t being lied to, about who had been behind the attempt on her life. It wasn’t something that he could remove from his mind, if he was right, like how he was certain he was, this was the only way.  

 

“If I hadn’t been there Davos,” he whispered, his hands clenched that tight his knuckles were turning white. “He wouldn’t have been quick enough,” his head jerked towards where Grey Worm had been sitting, the image of Daenerys being stabbed in the Throne Room flashing through his mind. His chest tightened at the thought, his heart skipping a beat at the idea of seeing her dying in front of the Throne. 

 

Turning away not wanting to see the look that he was sure would be on the older man’s face at his words. Forcing the air into his lungs, as he battled the image from his mind. He could still feel his blood boiling at the thought, he  _ had _ been there. He had managed to put his body between the blade and Daenerys’ body.

 

“If they had killed her,” he finally turned back to his friend. “I would have taken the Dokrathi and Unsullied to Deepwood Motte, and I would have burnt it to the ground with Robbet Glover still inside.” 

 

Davos paused at the threat, the conviction he heard behind those words. Yes, he had no doubt that Jon would have burnt Deepwood Motte to the ground, if Daenerys had been murdered, at Robbet Glover’s command. His gaze dropped, he hadn’t seen this Jon Snow for awhile. The one who would make a decision, whether people agreed with him or not.

 

“You didn’t question me at Castle Black.”

 

His head snapped back to Jon at that, Castle Black had been different. 

 

“Castle Black,” he repeated darkly, eyes burning with rage at the memory of what had happened there. “They bloody  _ killed _ you at Castle Black, of course, I didn’t question you when you decided to hang them for it!” He hissed, not caring if anyone was outside the solar listening to them. 

 

“And they tried to kill Daenerys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms whether they like that or not,” Jon growled at him in response. 

 

Davos fought back a tired sigh at that. He knew there would be little reason to continue this, Jon’s mind was already decided, something he would have little hope of changing. Neither would he truly want to, not if what Jon said was true. The mention of Castle Black, and what happened there brought the conversation Daenerys had with him. 

 

“She..” clearing his throat as he thought about the best way to bridge this conversation. “Her Grace was asking about your scars,” he watched as Jon’s eyes darkened dangerously, looking more black than gray, as his hand came up, stroking the scar that resting over his heart. “She wanted to know how you got them. How you could have survived something like that.” 

 

Jon nodded jerkily, his hand still rubbing his chest, he was still able to feel the ache in his chest caused by the stab, that finally took his life.

 

“What did you tell her?” He whispered, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He didn't want anyone knowing what had happened to him, the mutiny that had taken his life. 

 

“Nothin',” Davos turned his chair, trying to catch his eye. “It’s not my story to tell lad. It's yours if you want to tell her.” He ran his hand through his nearly white, receding hair. “If you’re planning on staying here, she’ll want you to tell her at some point.” 

 

Jon sucked in a deep breath, his eyes shutting to block out the images he could see. He  _ knew _ Davos was likely right, he had seen the way her eyes had dropped to the scars littering his body when she walked into his chamber. It was a conversation he was more than happy to put off for as long as he could, however.

 

Smiling sadly down at the man he would have gladly seen as an adopted son, squeezing his shoulder, hoping to give him some kind of comfort. Realising that Jon wasn’t going to move, or even open his eyes, Davos slowly pulled his hand away, nodding to himself before walking towards the door of the solar. 

 

Hearing the door shut behind his former Hand, Jon finally let out the shuddering breath he had been holding onto. Finally opening his eyes, hearing the older man’s footsteps fade down the passageway. This was meant to have been a simple meeting, to tell the pair of them that he had summoned Glover to Kings Landing, that he was not to be touched until he said so.

 

_ ‘How do you tell someone you were murdered and brought back to life?’ _

 

Pushing himself from his seat, his hand gripping the back of the chair as the world started to spin. His eyes snapped to the near-empty jug of wine, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips, realising that no one else had been drinking it. 

 

\---

 

Jon watched Grey Worm warily from across the open courtyard. A collection of both Unsullied and Dokrathi had made their way outside to watch. A match between their Queen’s supposedly chosen Khal, and the captain of her Unsullied army was something that they wanted to witness. 

 

Jon untied the black gambeson he was wearing, passing it to one of the guards watching in the shadows, along with his sword belt, already sweating under the sun at Kings Landing. Stood only in a thin navy tunic and breeches, he stared back at Grey Worm who stood patiently. The black studded leather armour would offer him more protection than what Jon was wearing, however much that might have been. gray eyes dropped to the large three-headed dragon sitting in the middle of the armour, highlighted in red to make it stand out just enough. 

 

Dark eyes narrowed, as Grey Worm’s hand tightened around the spear at his side. He had heard about how Jon Snow fought against the Night King and his army of the dead. He had heard how the Northern people, and then Daenerys herself talk about his skill with a blade, if this man was going to be next to his Queen. 

 

Not waiting for a command to start, Grey Worm quickly closed the distance between them. A quick thrust towards his stomach was sidestepped by Jon, who pushed the end of the spear to the floor. Shifting on his feet, Jon swung his sword upwards landing a shallow cut on the inside of Grey Worm’s thigh, before backing away, the smallest of smiles on his face. The Unsullied captain’s eyes narrowed, taking two steps away, dark eyes dropping to the small trickle of blood going down his leg.

 

A quiet chuckle went through the crowd at Jon drawing first blood, the former King in the North. It seemed that was the signal needed the pair needed to start properly. Jon coming forward, feinting one way and then the other, bringing Longclaw up in a quick sweep. Grey Worm quickly pulled his spear up, trying to absorb as much of the blow with the shaft of his chosen weapon, grunting as he was forced backward. Turning the spear around, he jabbed the butt of it into Jon’s ribs forcing some distance between them. Not wanting to waste the advantage he’d been given, spinning the spear around once again, a quick slice went through the tunic, leaving a shallow cut of its own on Jon’s stomach.

 

Hissing in a breath, Jon’s hand came up the small cut out of instinct, brushing the thin trickle of blood away. His own smile growing,  _ this _ , this is what he had missed. The rush of blood in his veins at the idea of a fight, even if it was only a friendly sparring match.

 

Hearing grunts of pain and cheering fill the air had piqued Daenerys’ interest as she slowly made her way around the Red Keep. She watched curiously as Dokrathi and Unsullied alike, hurriedly marched past her, going  _ somewhere _ . Another cheer, louder this time, Daenerys followed the men that came across the sea with her. 

 

Violet eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat, as she watched Jon narrowly spin out of the way of Grey Worm’s spear. The hilt of his sword, forcing the spear away from him, before a flash of silver slashed across her captain’s back, drawing a hiss of pain from gritted teeth.

 

Pushing her way through the crowd of men, wanting to get a closer look at the two men fighting. Her heart pounding in her chest, both wanting to know who would win the fight, and at the same time, not wanting to see either man lose. 

 

“No,” she gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Grey Worm angrily swung his spear around. The end of which connecting with Jon’s collar bone, causing the other man to stagger, his next swing faltering allowing the darker-skinned warrior to get a free swipe across his torso. 

 

“Fuck!” Jon spat, the cool air hitting the fresh wound caused him to wince. The cut was deeper than before, any sense of this being a friendly spar fleeing his mind. His hand tightened on Longclaw, end his battle either with a broken spear, or the other man on the floor.

 

“Enough!” Daenerys’ voice rang out, causing Jon to spin on his heel, not having been aware she was there. Violet eyes met gray with a level of concern just for him, before it vanished under a mask of Queenly indifference. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

 

“Your Grace.” Grey Worm quickly greeted, bowing his head to her. 

 

Jon snorted in amusement at the display, no intention to follow suit. Even if the carefully arched eyebrow pointed in his direction was anything to go by, told him that’s exactly what she wanted, especially in front of other people.

 

“I’d prefer if the captain of my Unsullied army, and the former King of the North weren’t killing one another.” she laughed at the looks on their faces. She came to a stop in front of Jon, her hand unconsciously moving across the tunic, frowning in concern at the blood that was causing it to stick to his chest. “I believe you have enough scars on your body, My Lord.”

 

\--- 

 

He had known it was risky, that he shouldn’t have really been there, yet she  _ had _ said that this was meant to be their chamber. He let out a small hiss of pain, as the heat from the water made contact with the shallow cuts Grey Worm’s spear had caused to his legs. 

 

They would likely be healed on the morrow, though that didn’t stop the discomfort as he sank deeper into the stone basin. The water still slightly too hot, but the stone bath Daenerys’ ancestors had made was still better than anything he’d used at Castle Black, or even in Winterfell.

 

Letting his head rest against the stone basin, his eyes focused on the tiled ceiling above him. Unlike the white porcelain floor tiles, the ceiling displayed a massive black dragon in mid-flight, and what appeared to be a dragon rider sitting atop of it. gray eyes narrowed, as he tried to imagine just how big the beast would be if the painting was to scale. It would dwarf Drogon if it was real, and  _ that _ was a worrying idea. Daenerys’ last surviving dragon had been her largest, and Jon knew it was a terrifying sight to see, that the dragon on the painting could have been larger still, sent a shiver down his spine. 

 

“This is bloody madness,” muttering to himself as he pushed wet hair away from his face, Jon’s hand in the water with a soft splash. He was making preparations to kill a man he had invited to the city, and here he was sitting in the largest bath he had ever seen. 

 

Knowing that he had placed Longclaw next to the tub, did little to stop him staring at the doors that led to the bedchamber. Jon tried to relax, tried to convince himself that there was no reason to be on edge, but it wasn’t true. His previous conversation with Davos and Grey Worm were proof of that. His mind muttered darkly that the last time he thought everything was going to be ok, his own men had murdered him. 

 

Try and he might, there was little Jon could do to stop his eyes slowly drifting shut. The quiet of the room and heat of the bath drawing him down, slowly Jon sank further into the water leaving only his chin and head above the surface.

 

The sound of a latch sliding into place snapped Jon back to consciousness, the water splashing lightly as he jerked awake, forcing himself up with a slight splutter. Ready to curse himself for drifting off, a quiet laugh coming from the doorway drew his attention. 

 

Jon’s eyes widened seeing Daenerys leaning against the doorway, an amused looking dancing in her eyes. Though he quickly chided himself, wondering who else would just walk into the bathing chamber, without permission. 

 

“I would have made more noise, but you looked so peaceful sleeping in the bath.” Daenerys chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the way his face flushed. 

 

“I wasn’t sleepin’...” Jon countered, it sounded weak even to his ears, she  _ had _ snuck up on him. Any further attempt to deny he had been asleep died as she cocked her head to the side, slow, deliberate steps closer to him. Watching her get closer, Jon was aware that he was still very much in the bath, battling down the urge to sink further into the water once again.

 

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at the sight of her. The predatory smile that formed on her face, that only grew with each step towards him she took. 

 

Daenerys forced back a smile seeing him flush again, as her eyes moving down the skin on display. Forcing herself not to focus on the scars littering his body, focusing instead on the toned chest in front of her. She inwardly grinned as he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

 

“When someone said you were in my bath, I had to see it for myself  _ nephew _ .” She teased, a flash of white teeth as his cheeks tinged pink. Carefully stepping over the furs and breeches that had been discarded on his way to the bath, Daenerys wanted to laugh at his sudden shyness. It was nothing like the man who had come to her stateroom on their journey to Winterfell, which felt like a lifetime ago. 

 

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen.” He muttered turning away from her, chuckling quietly as he shook his head, tilting his head up to look at her. “You come here just to stare at me in the bath?” Jon asked but instantly regretted it, seeing the wicked smile she gave him.

 

“Should I join you?” she teased, sliding the dress from one of her shoulders, watching as his eyes followed as some of the material fell away from her. When he didn’t say anything to stop her, she moved to her other shoulder, violet eyes shining in amusement as his throat bobbed. Slowly she started to push the black strap away, waiting for him to tell her to stop but it never came. 

 

No, he wouldn’t tell her to stop. His eyes were nearly black as he stared up at her, breathing heavier despite himself at the thought of Daenerys joining him in the bath. When her eyes dropped to the tub, he fought the urge to cover himself. Jon was confident that the water was deep enough to hide his hardening cock from her, at least until she climbed in. 

 

Daenerys’ hand froze on the strap of her dress, as a quiet but urgent knock came at the door behind her. She turned back to Jon, a questioning look on her face, but saw it mirrored on his own. A second knock quickly followed causing Daenerys to frown, pulling her dress into place as she shot Jon a look that told him  _ just _ what she thought of the interruption. The upturn on his mouth and the knowing look in his eye, almost made her ignore whoever was on the other side of the door. 

 

“Davos?” her frown deepened, off all people who she had expected to see on the other side of the door, he might have been the last person.  _ ‘There’s only Grey Worm left’  _ she thought, a dull ache in her chest at the realisation.

 

“Your Grace,” Davos bowed his head, “apologies for the interruption.” His eyes darted past her, to find Jon still in the bath, although he was looking a lot more uncomfortable than he was before.

 

Following his gaze, Daenerys ground her teeth in annoyance. She was sure whatever her Hand had come to tell her was important, that didn’t change there was a very naked, very wet Jon Snow in the tub behind her. 

 

“Come in Lord Hand.” She pushed the door wider and wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, when he did just that. Daenerys’ eyebrow arched as she watched the reaction, or rather lack of reaction, Davos had to Jon being naked in the room. She thought it a little queer, but then Davos has been Jon’s Hand previously. 

 

“Lord Snow,” he nodded before standing in the middle of the ornate room, as Daenerys moved past him to stand next to Jon. 

 

“What was so important it couldn’t wait?” A frown firmly etched on her face. It would have to be extremely important, for her to consider it reason enough to interrupt her plan.

 

“Someone has arrived at Kings Landing wanting an audience with you, Your Grace,” Davos stated matter of factly. “A Lord from the North apparently.” His attention snapped to Jon for the briefest second at that. It was so fast Daenerys wouldn’t have thought she had seen it correctly, if it wasn’t for the man it was directed at to stiffen. 

 

“A Northern Lord?” she repeated, trying to remember if she had heard about any of them coming to Kings Landing. She had demanded their presence at her coronation, but they had all refused to her anger and frustration. That one had arrived piqued her interest as to why that was. 

 

“Daenerys, go meet him with Davos. I’ll join shortly.” Jon spoke for the first time since there had been a knock on the door. 

 

She turned, ready to question him, but whether it was on the use of her name and not ‘Your Grace’ as everyone else referred to her as, or that it came out very much as a command. gray eyes clashed with violet, as the pair were seemingly locked in a battle of wills to see who would back down first. It was an unusual feeling for Daenerys, being able to physically look down on Jon. 

 

Daenerys’ eyes widened in shock as Jon slowly rose from the bath, forcing herself to keep her eyes on his face and not follow the droplets of water that made their way down his chest. Taking a small step backwards as Jon stepped out of the bath, the water pooling under his feet on the tiled floor. Swallowing at the challenging glint in Jon’s eyes, her own hardening at the sight. She would  _ not _ look down to see what kind of effect she’d had on his cock, and she was not wishing Davos hadn’t knocked on the door either. Nostrils flaring as Jon’s lips curled in a hint of a smirk, she didn’t know whether to slap it off of his face or kiss him, perhaps both. 

 

Davos rolled his eyes watching the two young Targaryens, the tension in the air was palpable. He was sure if he wasn’t in the room with them, they would have been fucking one another in the bath. What he wasn’t entirely sure of, was him being there would actually stop them. Especially if the way she was biting into her lip was anything to go by. 

 

“Your Grace,” he offered, fighting not to laugh at the withering look she gave him. “He will be here soon, it would be best if he wasn’t waiting for too long.” Davos rolled his eyes at the amused look Jon had on his face, as she turned away from him. 

 

“Of course, Lord Hand.” Daenerys ground out, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the older man. Hearing wet footsteps on the tiled floor behind her, she resisted the urge to turn around. If the look on her Hand was giving her, then it was clear just how much she wanted to do just that. 

 

Walking past the older man and towards the door, she frowned, pausing mid-step as Davos moved in the opposite direction. Daenerys half-turned in the doorway, watching as he whispered something to Jon. Again, she noticed just how little either man were bothered by the fact Jon was naked as the day he came into the world. Both wanting to hear what they were whispering about and trying not to stare at the still very naked Jon, she ended up doing neither.

 

“Make sure he doesn’t leave the Throne Room,” Jon whispered, his eyes snapping towards Daenerys as he spoke, smiling as he watched her try not to listen to them. “Don’t get the Unsullied touch him.” 

 

“No one will touch him, lad.” 

 

Daenerys followed her Hand with a look of confusion forming on her face. The fact she had someone waiting for her was baffling, it was something that she should have known, yet her mind was drawing a blank.

 

That said nothing about the look Davos had shared with Jon when he mentioned their guest. Secrecy wasn't something that she liked, especially when her rule was still in its infancy. She would remind them both of them, about the risks of keeping things secret from her once this was all over. Violet eyes drifted to her Hand, walking just in front of her, having kept quiet since he had summoned her from her chambers.

 

“Did they say what they wanted Lord Hand?” She questioned, keeping her eyes on the back of the other man.

 

“H.he didn’t your Grace.” Came the quick reply.

 

A frown took over Daenerys’ face, her eyes narrowing on him. 

 

“You’re an honourable man, I don’t think I need to remind you not to lie to your Queen,” she let the threat hang in the air, waiting to see if he would crack. She was torn between annoyance and the slight hint of pride that he didn’t so much as flinch.

 

“He hasn’t said what he wants your Grace, though I’m sure everything will become clear once you meet him.” Davos turned to look at her over his shoulder, blue eyes quickly dropping to the floor. He didn't like the idea of keeping something from her. A small amount of fear of being fed to her beast in the Dragon pit formed in his stomach at the idea, however, he had enough trust in Jon to go along with it.

 

Daenerys nodded to herself, still not happy with him keeping the truth from her, but she would wait to see how this played out. 

 

The soft clicks on boots hitting the stone floor only served to anger Robbet Glover with each step. It felt like he had been waiting for an age to see the Queen who had seemingly summoned him. That she hadn’t been there to greet him, was already another mark against the young ruler in his mind, if it was even possible for her to go any lower in his estimation. Instead, he’d been forced to wait with the commander for her army from across the sea, staring at him silently, like he was something to stomp underfoot. That he had two more guards standing behind him, doing little to stop him being on edge.

 

‘Finally, the Dragon Queen herself’

 

Lord Glover’s eyes narrowed at her appearance, impressed neither with the dress she wore nor the crown sitting on her head. Watching as she finally sat on the Iron Throne, he fought his anger down as she turned to him, a look of confusion behind her eyes.

 

“Lord Robbet Glover, of DeepWood Motte.” Davos introduced after the silence dragged out for a moment too long. 

 

“I don’t remember requesting your presence my Lord,” Daenerys began, a terse smile on her face, as she took in the white-haired man who was staring at her with animosity all over his face. “If you’ve arrived to witness my coronation then, unfortunately, you’re a few days late. Perhaps you’re here to bend the knee?” A delicate eyebrow raised at her question, waiting on him patiently.

 

Sitting there patiently, she finally took the other man’s appearance, it wasn’t an impressive sight despite what he thought. Thinning white hair, coupled with the same coloured thick beard wouldn’t have been too bad. The furs he wore over his leathers did nothing to hide the paunch of his protruding stomach, from years of feasting and drinking during his years in the North. No Daenerys thought, no impressive at all. 

 

Robbet Glover’s nostrils flared at that. He stood with his back straighter, hands clenching at his sides. A biting retort ready on his tongue. He had not come to bend the knee to her, neither would he at any point in the future.

 

A bitter chuckle left Daenerys’ throat at his refusal, her fingers curling around the arms of her throne. 

 

“Perhaps not,” she muttered, violet eyes burning as she leant forward. “Tell me than my Lord, why are you here?”

 

“I received a raven requesting, demanding my presence here.” He spat at her, unconcerned by the Unsullied currently glaring at her. “Now the Queen doesn’t know why she summoned me.” He mocked shaking his head at her.

 

“It was me that summoned you.” A voice cut off the venomous retort that Daenerys was ready to fire back.

 

If he had managed to keep his anger somewhat hidden at Daenerys, there was nothing he could do at the sight of Jon Snow. His lip-curling in disgust at the Northern-man.

 

“Apologises your Grace,” Jon turned towards his chosen Queen, a contrite smile on his face. “I should have made you aware Lord Glover was arriving, however, this was something I wished to do.”

 

Daenerys’ confusion only grew at his words, however, there was nothing she could do to stop her eyes softening at the sight of him. Dressed in the thick, rich furs he had worn in during their time in Winterfell, covered the dark gambeson he was wearing. Back straight as he stared back at her, gray eyes hardened and mouth set in a thin line, Daenerys was reminded of the warrior King he looked like in Winterfell.

 

Her breath caught at the thought, she would get him to leave the furs of Winterfell behind and have him dress more like the Targaryen he was. Black steel armour, to protect him from any danger he could find himself in, a large ruby dragon on his chest to tell everyone just who he was. A smile formed as she pictured the pair of them. Targaryen Queen and King ruling the Seven Kingdoms as they always should have, before it had been ripped away from them. 

 

_ ‘No’ _ Daenerys thought to herself as she took him in, Jon,  _ her Jon _ , was not of the North, not anymore. She would let them have anything that could tie him to that cold, harsh land any longer. 

 

“What right do you have to summon me?” The older man was unable to keep the hatred out of his voice, as he glared at Jon who hadn’t moved from his spot. “You’re not a King anymore, bastard.” 

 

gray eyes narrowed darkly at the insult, nostrils flaring with barely controlled temper. Though, it was the glow, dangerous growl coming from behind him that caused him to stop. 

 

Leaning forward in her seat, violet eyes dancing in anger and her lip curled up in a snarl at the dig, as she glared at the white-haired man.

 

“ You’re talking to Aegon Targaryen.” Daenerys spat icily at him, violet eyes burning with barely concealed rage. “I’d watch my tongue, My Lord, whilst you still have it.” 

 

The Lord of Deepwood Motte swallowed back any retort that might have been sitting on his tongue. His eyes widening at what she had just said, his gaze flickering between the Queen, and the former King in the North. Robbet Glover was certain she had just called Jon Snow a Targaryen, that couldn’t be right, could it?

 

Jon’s head snapped to look over his shoulder at Daenerys, something dark and possessive passed through his eyes as she called him a Targaryen. He would talk to her about  _ that _ later. 

 

“Lord Glover,” Jon ensured his face was blank as he started, not willing to let the anger he left at the older man bubble to the surface. Not yet. “Not long after Daenerys Stormborn took Kings Landing, there was an attempt on her life.” Jon paused, feeling her gaze, questioning what he was doing on the back of his head. He didn't look back, his eyes searching the other man's face.

 

“I...I was unaware of that.” Robbet Glover quickly replied, trying his best to keep his face on Jon Snow. Swallowing the lump in his throat as the younger man’s face hardened, something dark passing across his eyes.

 

“You can understand why we would want to keep his information in Kings Landing,” Jon continued, taking a step forward and hiding a satisfied smirk watching as the man fought not to move backwards. His hand instinctively went towards where Longclaw should have been resting, finding nothing there. 

 

He turned to his left, under the pretense of taking in the other people in the Throne Room. his eyes stopping on Davos, seeing his friend holding said sword in his hands. Had he been that distracted by Daenerys in his room earlier, that he had missed Davos picking it up as he left?

 

“Tell me, My Lord.” Mockingly offering the title, Jon turned back to the other man. “Does the name Asher Forrester mean anything to you?”

 

Robbet Glover’s eyes dropped to the floor for the briefest second, before quickly darting back up to Jon. The quirk of an eyebrow telling him that the movement hadn’t gone unnoticed.

 

“No.” He ground out with as much conviction as he could. It didn’t settle his nerves that the former King’s expression hadn’t changed at his answer. Dark gray continued to stare unblinkingly at him, instead, there was another slow step towards him.

 

“It would be a surprise then, to hear House Forrester are vassals to Deepwood Motte?” Jon asked, a knowing smirk on his face, wondering how the other man would try and deny that knowledge. “Asher Forrester tried to kill her Grace, in this room, at your command. My Lord.” Not for the first time, his title was mocking given to him. 

 

Heart pounding in his chest so loudly, Robbet Glover thought it could be heard. His eyes snapped towards Davos Seaworth, the old man glaring back at him, though he hadn’t moved from his spot at the ‘Dragon Queen’s side. The Unsullied captain next to him looked like he was ready to run him through with his spear, seeing how tightly he was holding him. Barely controlled rage etched all over his face. 

 

“I am the Lord of Deepwood Motte!” Glover spat at Jon as his lips curled up into a snarl, even as he felt his stomach drop out. “You will not accu..”

 

“You’re not Lord of Deepwood Motte,” Jon stated, his eyes darkened to the point where they were nearly black, as he tried to fight down his anger. 

 

“You can’t make that decision. You’re not King in The North anymore.” Robbet Glover repeated, although his voice lacked the confidence it had before. A bead of sweat made its way down the side of his face, becoming increasingly aware of the situation he was finding himself in.

 

“No,” Davos’ voice rang out, as he finally stepped forward. His face as hard as Jon’s was, as he glared at the other man. “Jon Snow is no longer King.” The comment did little to settle his nerves. “Daenerys Targaryen is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she can strip you of any titles and lands if she so wishes.”

 

Daenerys watched, eyes burning with fury at Robbet Glover. The only thing that had stopped her from ordering he be dragged to the dungeons or fed to Drogon was the fact that Jon seemed to have everything in hand. That he seemed to know something she didn’t, piqued her interest. When had he learnt that her would-be murderer had been a vassal to House Glover?

 

Robbet Glover swallowed nervously, his eyes widening in fear as he looked at the four people staring back at him. Murderous rage etched on the faces of the Queen, her Unsullied guard, and Jon Snow. He was more aware of the fact that his sword had been taken from him, as he entered the Throne Room, though what use that would do him now, he wasn’t sure. 

 

Taking half a step backwards proved to be the wrong decision. Fire exploded in his left calf, as an anguished scream tore free from his throat. Dropping to the floor from the pain in his leg. Robbet turned to look over his shoulder, his blood turning to ice in his veins seeing the spear of an Unsullied guard who had followed him, embedded in his calf. 

 

Heavy footsteps pulled his attention back to his fellow Northern-man, his heart beating that hard in his chest he was sure it was audible to everyone else in the room.

 

“Pl..please.” He whimpered, trying to force himself to his feet but unable to do so with the spear in his leg. “I...I didn’t do anything.” 

 

Jon ignored the pleading, his resolve hardening with every word. Did he really think that anyone would believe him?

 

“Hold him,” he ordered the two Unsullied guards standing either side of the white-haired man. Jon slowly made his way behind Robbet Glover, staring into the waiting eyes of his chosen Queen. “Davos, my sword.”

 

Robbet Glover could only let out another pained whimper, as his hands clawed at the floor trying to force himself back to his feet. It was no use under the grip of the two guards holding him down. 

 

The only sound in the Throne Room beside the ragged breaths from the man on his knees, was Davos’ footsteps as he made his way to them. Longclaw cradled on his arm, as he offered it to his former King.

 

Jon nodded to him once, before looking down at the man at his feet. The smell of urine stung his nostrils, causing him to glare down at the other man in disgust. His lip curled at the small puddle of piss that pooling under Robbet Glover. Looking back to Daenerys one last time, her eyes dark and a victorious smirk on the corner of his mouth. Jon shut his eyes momentarily, holding a breath as he steeled himself.

 

“With Fire and Blood.” 

 

Daenerys stared at her nephew, gray eyes burning with anger, and his breath coming out in ragged breaths, as he stared down at the headless Northern-man. Slowly she stood from her throne, smoothing out the thin dress that she wore as she made her way towards him. Each step deliberate as she watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath he took.

 

“Jon,” her voice barely above a whisper as Daenerys came to a stop in front of him, he didn’t look at her, his attention still on the corpse in front of him. Slowly she pulled Longclaw from his hand, offering it back to Davos, who took it from her without a question. “Jon.” She tried again, placing her hand on his cheek to draw his attention to her. 

 

Taking Jon’s hand in her own, Daenerys didn’t look at Davos or her Unsullied guards as she pulled him behind her. Fully intending to do what had been on her mind, before Davos had knocked on the door when Jon had been in the bath. Chewing her lip with each step, fully aware of the fact that Jon hadn’t pulled his hand away, letting her lead them to wherever she wanted.

 

Half leading him, half pulling as she made the way towards her chambers,  _ their _ chambers, she didn’t care how it looked to anyone they came across that the Queen was dragging him to her room. Let them try and question why she was pulling him behind her.

“Dany,” Jon chuckled behind her, making her stop as she looked over his shoulder. A knowing smirk on his face as he stared back at her, she would have let go of his hand if she was certain the same dark, hungry look wasn’t mirrored in her own eyes. 

 

Giving his hand a tug with a soft growl, Daenerys ignored his laughter as he followed behind her. Hurried footsteps echoing off the corridors. 

 

“In!” She ordered,  _ finally _ getting to the room. She didn’t give Jon a chance to argue as she all but shoved him through the open door.

 

Daenerys gasped as Jon pinned her against the door as soon as the latch slid into place. His lips crushing against hers. She tried to push him back, resisting the urge to tug his hair out of the band he had tied it back into. Daenerys whimpered softly as he sucked her bottom lip into his life before pinning her against the door more forcibly.

 

“I’ll kill any man that thinks they can touch you,” he growled, slowly kissing and biting along her neck, the smirk only growing as he felt her tremble against him. 

 

“Y.yes…” Daenerys whispered tilting her head, as her hands clenched into the gambeson he was wearing. She wanted to be angry, should have been angry that he thought he could have her pinned against the door. She was ready to demand that Jon move, demand he get on the bed so she could ride him the way she wanted to. “Jon!” she gasped when he ground his hips against hers, feeling his cock pressing into her

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. There _was_ going to be smut in this chapter, all planned out then Thribe told me smut was the source of evil and who am I to argue with that?
> 
> promise its in the next chapter xD


	5. An explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye for now

After doing some thinking I'm leaving the GoT/Jonerys fandom, which means this story will unfortunately remain unfinished, and will likely be taken down entirely in the next week or so.

If I'm entirely honest I haven't looked at the tag for the longest time, because well just look at the state it's been in. Theres a small handful of authors that I'm subscribed to, who are worth reading but that's it. The only thing that kept me in the fandom since season 8 finished, was the amazing people from the Jonerys discord, who genuinely made me laugh most days with their insanity. However since I've left the discord, there's been very little to keep me interested in the fandom anymore. 

For the the people who were reading and enjoying the story, I'm sorry, but I have very little, if any motivation to write anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter mentions Daenerys addressing her men, however I couldn't get a speech to look right. At the same time, I didn't want the speech she gave on the show, to exist in this story, so there we go.


End file.
